


Magic By The Sea

by FlightInSnow



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Complete, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Mermaids, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, Pirates, Sea Monsters, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlightInSnow/pseuds/FlightInSnow
Summary: Ryan Regale lives on a small island of only 700 people surrounded by a violent ocean and strange stories of pirates and magic. Grown up to love the sea and his family, Ryan's world suddenly takes a nose dive when he discovers that the myth and legend might be based on something far more real than a children's storybook.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 50





	1. Magic by the Sea

\--

Chapter One:  
Magic By The Sea

\--

Ryan lay reclined against a cool rock, cleaning his fishing tackle. He had managed to catch a sizable brown trout. He had decided to go fishing after finishing his exams for the week. For all the stress they hadn’t been as bad as he had been dreading.

Ryan lived on a little secluded island close to the coast. The island had a population of around seven hundred people. It was a tight knit community with few shops and even fewer things for teens Ryan’s age to do. The mainland was only a forty-minute swim.

If you were good. Really good.

This was not an island you see on the holiday resorts shows on television. Oh no. The waters were black, ice cold and were fresh with violent mood swings. There were no sandy beaches but instead sharp rocks and slippery caves with dense prickly shrubs and thick grasses. Even the animals that lived on the island were smarter than on the mainland. Life was tough so the critters were more resourceful. Ryan’s best friend Trent had sworn he saw a fox run off with his mother’s best scarf. Honestly it was more likely that Trent had just lost it. Trent was good at loosing things.

The city on the mainland was only a short ferry ride away and it was where more of the young people went to work and hang out. There were movie theatres, clubs, shopping centres and even a Ferris wheel that lit up at night. On clear nights you could almost see it from the island. That was where Ryan’s friends were now. But not Ryan. He needed to go pick up his brother from school. Ryan father was not in the picture. He sent them child support but aside from that he was never in their lives. Ryan lived in a little house with his brother, Tyler, his grandpa Jo and his mother. His mother worked full time as a research scientist over in a large laboratory on the other side of the island that was closed to the public. Ryan had asked his mother once what she did there. She had said something about improving energy efficiency. Ryan didn’t believe that. Since his father left his mother had never lied to him. But that didn’t mean she told the entire truth either.

The island had frequent storms and winds strong enough to drag you off your feet. The power on the island was out more than it was on so practicing something like power efficiency seemed a little impossible when the electricity didn’t stay on long enough to make a cup of tea. He loved his mother dearly but she often worked long hours and was home late which meant Ryan was responsible for making sure that Tyler got home from school.

Little Tyler was five and a tiny ball of bouncing energy. With blonde locks, large dimples and brilliant blue eyes he was adorable. He went through fazes of favourite words. His favourite word at the moment was lemur. He had walked in on Ryan watching an animal documentary.

“Rye-Rye, what are those?” Tyler asked, pointing at the television screen.

“It’s a lemur. There like monkeys that can only be found on Madagascar. Madagascar is an island too.” Tyler watched, enraptured by the leaping fluffy animals on the screen and promptly wriggled into Ryan’s lap, sending all his school notes flying. Grandpa Jo stuck his head around the corner.

“Watch you watching tyke?”

“Lemurs!” Tyler squealed.

“Lemur, lemur, lemur, lemur!”

Grandpa Jo was a funny old man. Despite his old age Grandpa Jo often volunteered around town, fixing this and that, working small shifts at the only primary school on the island and doing odd jobs around the place. The man had served in the navy in his youth, sailing all over the world. Ryan had seen a photo of Grandpa Jo. He had been quite handsome with a tall figure, soft face and a cheeky smile that had not gone away with age. Grandpa Jo was a fantastic storyteller, keeping the boys amused for hours on end with his tales of adventure, pranks and lessons.

The island itself was a mixture of cliffs, caves, small trees, thick shrubs and open hills. There were two main roads that went right around and through the island. At the centre of the town was a small fire department, the sheriff’s office, an old brick primary school, high school, church, a little pub, a post office, a small bakery, a general goods store and Mr and Mrs Bentley’s Odds and Ends. The Bentley’s shop was mostly hardware with fishing supplies of all kinds. But Mrs Bentley Also made her own ice-cream and sweets which she sold on one corner of the old store. Mr Bentley ordered one odd shipment every time he went to the mainland at the start of the week. It was anyone’s guess what it would be. Last week he had brought a shipment of movies and electronics for the younger generation.

Ryan stretched as he put everything back in his backpack. He put the lid on the yellow bucket holding his fish and set off down the rocks to the well-worn road. A ten-minute walk and he was out the front of the school. Tyler burst from the classroom, giggling.

“Rye-Rye!” He squealed, hugging Ryan tight around the waist. Ryan grinned, ruffling the boy’s hair. Tyler was the only living person allowed to call Ryan that particular name. Trent had mocked him, calling him that once. Ryan had punched him hard enough to convince him not to do it a second time.

“Hey Ryan!” Speak of the devil. Ryan turned his head. Trent was jogging up the road.

“Hey there little man!” Trent bent down to greet Tyler.

“Twent!” Squealed the little boy. Trent sighed.

“He’s never going to get my name right.” He laughed. Ryan shrugged.

“He’s only five. What do you expect? I thought you went to the mainland with the others.” Ryan said, greeting his friend with a grin. Trent shook his head.

“Nah, wish I had but I had to help my dad to finish his deliveries. There is supposed to be a storm coming later this afternoon. A couple of us are headed to the shop. Want to come along?” Trent said, his voice booming. The teen was naturally loud. Ryan nodded.

“Sure. I’ll drop Tyler off at home to Grandpa on the way. I needed to get some more fishing hooks anyway.” The little boy pouted at the prospect of being left behind but only for a moment before Trent whisked him up, giving him a piggy back ride.

“What’s in the bucket?” Trent inquired. Ryan sniggered.

“Brown Trout. Caught it about an hour ago.”

“Awesome!” the trio walked along the road. There weren’t any cars but that wasn’t unusual. Everything was in walking distance so it there wasn’t much point in driving. Ryan’s house was old but well maintained. One half face the open street and onto the sea. The other half faced the rough scrub land. Ryan was lucky enough to have his room on the ocean side. Ryan knocked on the door. Grandpa Jo answered it with a grin.

“Well hello there Trent!” Ryan dashed into the house. He wanted to prepare the fish before he left. He didn’t really need to hurry. Once Trent and Grandpa Jo got talking it would take a while for them to stop. Ryan scaled the fish with swift but precise strokes. He had a very wicked looking fishing knife that he carried on him at all times. Not for self-defence but for all the odd chores he ended up doing like scaling fish. It had been a present from his mother. Apparently, his dead-beat dad left it to him. At first Ryan hadn’t wanted it but it was a good strong knife. He had never needed to sharpen it since the day it was given to him. With the fish neatly scaled and deboned Ryan cleaned his favourite knife and buckled it into its sheath. Putting the fish in the fridge he strode outside, unsurprised to find Trent and Grandpa Jo still talking with little Tyler riding around on his little blue bike.

“Ready to go!” Ryan called.

“-And that’s why I was banned from the casino.”

“Wow! That’s awesome!” Exclaimed Trent, apparently awestruck. Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Come on Trent.” Ryan said, dragging his friend away by one arm.

“Your grand dad is awesome.” Trent announced. Ryan laughed. Trent didn’t have any grandparents. At least, not any that lived on the same side of the world as he did. It wasn’t long before the shops came into view. The great thing about living on an island was that it didn’t take long to walk to the important places. There were a few students already waiting for them.

“Hey Ryan!’ Called Catlin. She and Ryan grew up on the same street. The teen had dark tangled hair, brown eyes and one of the warmest smiles that anyone had ever seen.

“Hey Catlin. How did your exam go?” He asked, accepting a rib cracking hug from the girl. She beamed, pulling her knitted scarf a bit tighter after she had let go of him.

“Good! It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Now we have holiday for three weeks! I’m going to the mainland to live with my mum for the first week. What about you?” She asked, following the group into the store. The old brass bell tinkled about the door. Ryan shrugged.

“I’ll probably stick around here. Grandpa needs help around the house.” Catlin frowned at his answer as she plucked a bag of barbeque flavoured potato chips off the shelf near the register.

“Honestly Ryan, I think they can manage without you for a few days. Have some fun for once in your life.” she laughed. He gave her a playful shove.

“I have fun.” He teased. She rolled her eyes. Ryan looked through the lollies and was surprised to see a little tub of soft red liquorice. Tyler had never tried red liquorice before. Happy with his find, Ryan scoped some into a little paper bag and set it aside to pay for later. Mr Bentley strode into the room from his little office in the corner.

“Good afternoon you lot. What can I get you?” said the plump man, cleaning his hands on the old apron he always wore. It had the letter B sewn onto it in green.

“What did you get in for your special shipment?” Trent asked, dashing up to him like an excited sheep dog. The man chuckled.

“A classic my dear boy. Books.” Trent’s face fell.

“Like…comic books?” Trent didn’t sound particularly hopeful. Mr Bentley snorted.

“Hardly.”

“Come on old man, don’t you have anything more interesting?” Mr Bentley laughed, giving the scowling teen a light shove.

“Believe it not, people like books.” Trent rolled his eyes and went off to look through the tools on a nearby shelf. Ryan turned to follow him but was called back by the older man.

“Oh, Ryan? Wait one moment. I found this one amongst the others and thought of you. Here.” Ryan frowned, taking the book Mr Bentley held out to him. It was a dusty faded hardcover novel with a watercolour painting of a rolling sea of the front.

“The Lost Islands?” Ryan read out loud. He ran his fingertips over the slightly raised letters. Mr Bentley nodded.

“Do you recognise the author?” Ryan frowned, squinting at the name. It read B.J Whitely. He shook his head.

“No, should I?” Ryan asked but Mr Bentley only grinned.

“Maybe not. But the story is quite good.” Ryan shrugged.

“Alright, how much?” Ryan said, setting the book down next to his fishing hooks and liquorice.

“Tell you what, you bring me a jar or your mother’s delicious tomato chutney and I’ll give you that book for free. Really has a green thumb that woman. She’s the only on this island that can grow tomatoes in that little greenhouse of hers.” Mr Bentley said, leaning against the counter.

“Sure thing. I’ll let her know you said that, she loves that greenhouse.” Ryan handed over a twenty dollar note for the rest of his purchases. Trent meandered back over with Catlin. Mr Bentley gave Ryan his change and ushered the teens out of the store.

“Now you lot best be off home. There is a storm coming and radio says it’s going to be doozy.” The old man said jerking his head up the sky. Trent rolled his eyes muttering something like; “That’s unsurprising.” Ryan looked up at the oncoming clouds and felt a glimmer of unease. He hadn’t even noticed them before when he had picked up Tyler from school. There wasn’t the faintest breath of wind. Something that was very unusual for this little town. The birds were gone and there wasn’t sight or sound of a single insect. The clouds were thick, dark and tightly packed together. There was a dark purple lining around the clouds and soft flashes of light deep within its depths.

“I think we should get going.” Ryan announced suddenly aware that Catlin was pressed rather close to him. Their fellow class mates had already been and gone. Storms were not unusual here and the teens knew better than to sit around and wait it out. They each waved good bye before racing away. He hurried home with his purchases to find a hysterical Tyler waited for him in the front garden.

“Hey, Ty what’s wrong?” He asked, scooping up the wailing toddler.

“Grandpa took my bike away.” Whimpered the boy.

“Oh, do you know why?” Ryan asked, carrying the clingy boy inside and tightly shutting the door.

“No.” Said the boy with a wobbly lip.

“It’s because Grandpa Jo is putting your bike in a very special place in the shed. There’s a storm coming and we have to make sure that nothing is going to blow away. And that includes little five-year old lemurs!” Ryan laughed, tickling the boy’s sides. Tyler squealed, kicking at him with small sock covered feet. The shed was more like a tank, constructed over ten years ago from stone; it was built to handle storms.

“Ah there you are Ryan; I was starting to get worried.” Grandpa Jo padded into the room, rolling up his sleeves.

“I told you grandpa, you can always ring me. I have an iPhone.” Ryan sighed, holding up the mobile phone. Grandpa Jo stared at it like it was a foreign species.

“Ba, don’t trust those confounded contraptions. Besides, there is never any signal in this place.” Hmm well that was unfortunately true. Only a few spots on the island had reception. Their house had some. In the bathroom. Jo leant down and scooped up the still giggling Tyler and sat down on the couch. He started bouncing the boy on his knee. Apparently, the missing bike was already forgotten.

“So boys, tell your old grandfather what you did in school today.” Family time was always very important for Grandpa. No matter how ill, tired or grumpy they were, the boys were always expected to spend at least half an hour to an hour with the family with no television or phone. To Grandpa Jo, not eating at the dinner table or talking about each other’s day was barbaric! Ryan kept it to himself that most families didn’t do that anymore. To be honest he rather enjoyed the times he spent just playing cards or board games with his family. It felt stable and safe.

“We played soccer and, and I scored a goal!” Tyler announced proudly, throwing his arms up in the air.

“And we had craft, I finger painted a lemur! It’s red!” He continued with a rush before anyone could say anything. Grandpa Jo laughed, bouncing the laughing boy higher.

“Well that explains those red stains on your clothes. Good job Tyler, we will make a sportsman out of you! And what about you Ryan? What was in that bucket?” Ryan grinned.

“I had my last exam this morning so they let us out early. I caught us a brown trout for dinner. I’ve already scaled it and deboned it. Oh! I also bought these.” The boys crowded around as Ryan tipped out his bag. He pulled out a rope of soft red liquorice and passed a piece to both of them.

“What’s this?’ Tyler asked with a wrinkled nose.

“It’s a lolly.” Tyler didn’t need to be told anymore. He popped it in his mouth, moaning happily.

“Any more?” Tyler said, eyes locking on to the paper bag. Ryan laughed.

“Yes but for later. It will ruin your dinner.” Said Grandpa Jo, chewing on his own piece. Tyler pouted. The old man’s eyes stopped on the book Ryan had brought home.

“Ah, very interesting. Would you like me to tell you what it is?” the man teased. Ryan grinned.

“Very funny.” The teen said, handing the book to him. The man’s old eyes flicked over the cover with a faint look of surprise.

“Good book?” he asked with a sly grin. Ryan shrugged.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had the chance to read it yet. Mr Bentley gave it to me today for mum’s tomato chutney.” He explained. Grandpa Jo laughed.

“Your mother certainly knows how to make a mean chutney.” Right on cue the door flew open as a middle-aged woman pushed her way in and locked the door behind her.

“Sorry I’m late boys! The wind has started up again. I think this storm is going to be a big one!” She greeted. She gave her farther a hug and kissed her sons fondly on their cheeks.

“Mama, mama! Rye-rye caught a fishie!” Exclaimed Tyler, demanding hugs from the woman with chubby arms.

“Yes Alice, I hear it’s a beauty.” Said Grandpa Jo with a twinkle in his eye.

“Well then, I think we should start cooking it before that storm puts the power out.”

“Again.” Ryan added cheekily. Alice was always well dressed, with a fine complexion and just a touch of make-up to brighten her cheeks. It helped to hide the dark circles she often had under her eyes from the long hours she worked. Her dark hair was always swept back into a smart looking bun. “It’s a man’s word out there. It never hurts to dress smart.” Alice had said once. She was one of only three female scientists working in the laboratory and she took her job very seriously. Grandpa Jo and Tyler watched the news on the television whilst Ryan and his mother went into the kitchen. Ryan dug out his fish and some vegetables.

“Mr Bentley was asking for another jar of your tomato chutney.” Ryan said, peeling the carrots. His mother laughed.

“Oh really, well I suppose I have some left. You can take it to his shop tomorrow on your way to dropping off Tyler at his school. Speaking of which, how did your exam go?” She asked, chopping the potatoes with vigour. The knife clacked rhythmically against the bamboo chopping board. Ryan shrugged.

“It went well enough. There were a few questions that were worded strangely but nothing to abnormal.” Alice nodded her head as he spoke.

“Good, good. Now can you grab me some herbs from the top shelf and we’ll pop this in the oven.” The vegetables, now seasoned with pepper, salt, garlic and rosemary, took the longest, the stuffed lemongrass fish only taking a fraction of the time. The family sat at the table as the pitter patter of rain began on the roof.

“Tyler left a lovely finger painting on your desk.” Sai grandpa Jo. Alice smiled.

“Oh did he now? And what is the painting of?” She asked, gently wiping the sauce from Tyler’s face with a tissue.

“It’s a lemur! Lemur, lemur, lemur!” Tyler giggled. The family laughed.

When the storm finally broke it was loud. The thunder felt as though the ground itself was shaking. Showered and changed into his pjs, Tyler had already scampered into his mother’s room and crawled into her bed. Ryan reclined in his own bed. He remembered his first big storm.

\--

Lightening lit up the window through the thick curtains as a terrified six-year-old Ryan huddled in his bed, hugging his teddy with dear life. The following boom ripped a petrified wail from his throat. Grandpa Jo opened the door. He quickly walked over to the bed and sat down, scooping up the frightened little boy.

“My, those mermaids certainly are practicing very loudly tonight.” Said grandpa. Little Ryan rubbed the tears from his eyes.

“Mermaids?” he croaked. Grandpa Jo nodded.

“Oh yes. Haven’t I ever told you the story of the magical islands around here?” Ryan shook his head, curls flopping in his face.

“Well now! As you can see on a sunny day from your window, we are surrounded by teeny tiny islands. But it you look carefully, on some days, you might count a few more islands than normal. These islands are magical. They come and go, moving around however they like.”

“Islands don’t move!” Said little Ryan with a cheeky grin.

“Ah, but these ones do! These islands are full of magic, and those that live on and around the island are also magic! There are incredible sea beasts that practice their magic away from prying eyes. Unfortunately, this can cause storms just like this one.” Ryan shivered.

“They sound scary.” He whimpered. His grandpa nodded.

“I suppose they can be a bit. But they don’t come out of the sea very often. Because of that they aren’t very good at disguising themselves. They wear socks on their hands and hats on their elbows!” Grandpa Jo lifted his foot and wriggled his toes. Ryan laughed and then sniffled as another boom of thunder rattled the window.

“Why are they so loud?” He pouted.

“Well they are calling to their neighbours on other island so they have to make sure they are loud enough to be heard. Once the storm clears the islands are almost impossible to find. These magical islands disappear in a blink of an eye and the beasts go back into the ocean.”

“Dad, are filling his head with fairy tales again?” Asked Alice, padding into the room wearing her blue dressing gown.

“Ryan honey, lightening is just the build-up of static charge in the rain clouds. When the lightening generates heat, the heated air expands rapidly and then contract as it cools which creates the sound we call thunder.” The two boys stared at her.

“Alice honey? He’s six.” Alice shot her farther a glare.

“I know how old he is!” Grandpa Jo laughed.

“Come on Ryan, how about we make you some hot chocolate?” Ryan hopped off the bed, holding his grandfather hand.

“Grandpa?”

“Hmm?”

“I liked your version better.” Grandpa Jo sniggered

“So did I.”

\--

Ryan found himself smiling at the memory. He glanced at the second-hand book he had been given. He picked it up and flipped it open. The pages were dogeared in places and there was a smell of age. His eyebrows rose with surprise as he paused at one particular page, its corner smeared with what looked it coffee.

< Beware of the dark creatures that live on these islands. They are from a time long before that of man. Many have seen these islands but few have ever set foot on them. There one minute and gone the next, these islands could be called magical.>

Ryan flipped the page. In a flash his lamp went out signalling the power failure. Well that was weird timing. With a sigh he stretched and crept over to his window to shut the curtains. He paused for a minute, gazing out to the roaring sea in the distance. His hand paused on the window sill. Was that? No... Surely not?

There, in the distance, were two peaks. Peaks that he didn’t recognise. He shook his head. He was tired, it was late, and it was dark. Hell, he would mistake mud on the window for magical islands at this point. A chill went down his spine as movement caught his eye. Was someone out there?

There, in the street stood a man. At least Ryan thought it was a man. Surely no woman could be that tall and broad? His clothes were completely still against the gusting winds. The water seeming to rain around him rather than on him. His face covered by a hood, the man stood in complete stillness, staring. Staring straight through Ryan’s window and into his eyes. Ryan stared back. Into eyes that were so black, the storm itself was nothing.

Ryan pulled the curtains across so fast his breathe caught. Shaking, he peeked through the curtains.

Gone.

Just like that.

“Oh man, I must be a lot more tired than I thought.” Ryan rasped, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. Without waiting for another minute, he crept into bed and pulled the blankets up tight, listening to the thunder and rain, unable to shake the feeling that the wind rattling his windows now sounded ominously more like someone was tapping. Tapping to coax him back to the window. Back towards the street. And away towards the sea.

\--

END

\--


	2. Someone Else

\--

Chapter Two  
Someone Else

\--

When morning came the thunder and lightning was gone, leaving behind heavy but consistent rain. The power was still out and there was hardly any food in the cupboards. Ryan glanced over at his mother.

“I’m sorry Ryan. I’ve been putting off the grocery shopping.” She said, looking tired and sadden at the prospect of failing to provide food for her family.

“That’s alright Alice, we’ll have eggs!” Said grandpa. Alice glared at him.

“And how are we going to cook them with no power?” She grumbled. The old man laughed.

“Oh, you young people and your technology. We’ll cook the old fashion way on the fire.” The two followed him into the living room to see that the man had gotten the old fire place lit up despite the damp wood and chilly temperature.

“You forget my dear that I had to make do with a lot less in my navy years.” He teased. Soon, they had some water boiling in the old kettle and the eggs frying in large frying pan. Ryan cut some bread into slices and divided it up, giving each slice a thin layer of fluffy butter. Angelia, down the road, made it and sold her own homemade butter. Tyler strolled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Rye? Breakfast?” he said. The little boy was always very sluggish in the morning. Ryan smiled.

“It’s almost ready; can you put the plates on the table?” He handed his little brother the plates. He watched him waddle off in his racing car pjs.

“Eggs are done!” Grandpa Jo hollered. The eggs were served on the bread and everyone sat down. Alice cut Tyler’s bread and egg into smaller pieces whilst the toddler watched the rain, kicking his legs lightly.

“It’s still raining.” He said in awe, a little more awake now. Ryan grinned. The family ate in comfortable silence, listening to the heavy rain on the roof. As Ryan cleared the plates there was a loud bang on the door. The group jumped.

“Now who could that be? It’s raining cats and dogs out there!” Grandpa Jo spluttered. He opened the door to reveal a rather drenched looking portly woman.

“Debra? Good gracious, come inside! Let me get you a towel.” Alice rushed to the linen cupboard and pulled out a large fluffy blue towel. Debra worked as a primary school and day care teacher. She was almost like family and had been their next-door neighbour since the day Ryan was born. Literally. He had many memories of the gentle woman babysitting himself and his brother in their younger years.

“Ah! Good morning Deb, fancy a cup of tea?” asked Jo cheerfully as though she wasn’t dripping water all over the floor and furniture. The shivering woman nodded.

“Yes please, that would be lovely.” Recognising his school teacher, Tyler promptly ran up to her, chatting excitedly. Deb was a very patient woman with a love for children but sadly, she wasn’t able to have any of her own. Ryan had once overheard her talking to his mother about it a while ago.

“Come sit next to the fire, warm yourself up.” Alice insisted. Soon Debra was huddled in the chair next to the fire, swathed in the large towel. Grandpa Jo poured more tea for the adults and made two hot chocolates for the boys.

“Hot chocolate for breakfast!” Tyler exclaimed with glee.

“Just for this morning.” Alice warmed. Ryan smiled and sipped at his own cup.

“What are you doing out in weather like this dear?” asked the old man, handing her a cup with a red floral design. Debra smiled gratefully and took a deep sip.

“Unfortunately, I was coming back from the school. The road flooded and we had to spend the night there. Pete gave me a lift but it wasn’t until I got home that a realised I left my house keys back on my desk at work!” Very few people had cars on the island. Most of the time people were happy catching a lift or walking. Ryan frowned. Trent had been driving around with his dad doing the deliveries yesterday afternoon. He wondered if they were okay.

“Mum, is it okay if I go check on Trent?” His mother looked up sharply.

“Absolutely not! What kind of mother would I be if I let you run out into this storm? You’ll catch your death out there.” She snapped. Ryan refused to back down.

“But the roads are flooded. Trent could be stuck out there. I have to make sure he’s alright!” He insisted, squaring up.

“Ryan sweetie, Trent’s father has lived on this island nearly as long as your own family. He knows what he’s doing. Even if they were stuck on a stretch of road, what could you do? It would be much safer for them then it would be for you. Besides, the flooding has gone down since last night.” Debra said in a consoling voice. Ryan paced restlessly. With the power out, he had no way of checking on Trent other than just straight up going down to his house. There was another loud knock on the door and the whole group jumped again.

“Now what?” Grandpa Jo asked in surprise. He unlocked the door and a bedraggled boy trudged in with the rain lashing at his back.

“Trent!”

“Twent!” Tyler squealed. Trent weakly kicked off his shoes.

“Sorry to drop in on you like this guys. My dad wanted to let Ryan know that he didn’t have to work today. Probably not tomorrow either with this weather.” Ryan worked for Trent’s dad as a delivery boy. He didn’t get paid much but it was an easy job.

“You know our Ryan, always noble in getting the job done.” Trent teased. Ryan gave his best friend a shove. Alice laughed.

“We know. Ryan was just about to start a search party for you.” She said. Trent fluttered his eyes dramatically.

“Oh Ryan, you do care! My knight in shining armour!” He exclaimed in a highly girly voice. Everyone laughed.

“Well you better come warm up by the fire.” Grandpa Jo said. Trent beamed.

“Hi Debra, how have you been?” He asked, spotting the teacher in the old chair. She smiled.

“I’m well. I’m feeling my age though. I forgot my house keys back at the school.” Suddenly the atmosphere in the room seemed to drop. Trent’s grin faded slowly. Ryan gave him a quizzical look.

“Umm, unfortunately, that wasn’t the only reason I came over.” Trent said finally.

Trent looked straight face and gloomy. It was so out of character for him that he had everyone’s attention, even Tyler.

“Trent, what’s wrong honey?” Alice asked, shooing him closer to the fire.

“So then you haven’t heard yet?” Trent asked, sitting down on the rug by Debra. The group exchanged looks.

“No, what’s happened?” Grandpa Jo asked, seating himself on a chair nearby.

“Apparently they tried to ferry people back to the island last night. The ship never arrived at the dock.” Silence fell in the room. Jo frowned.

“That’s not a very funny joke young man.” Jo reminded carefully. Trent swallowed.

“I wish it were a joke. There’s estimated to be twelve people missing including Patrick.” Patrick was a boy from Ryan’s class at school. A sporty lad built like a wrestler, Patrick was a nice guy but everyone knew he hated living on the island. Grandpa Jo cursed softly under his breath.

“Bullocks! What were they thinking!? Trying to steer a ship in that storm?!” He spat.

“Dad!” Alice scolded. Ryan stood slowly.

“Maybe we should go scout the coast.” His mother shot him a scolding look.

“Not this again! No, you will stay here.”

“Come on mum, it’s only spitting out there now. The coast guard don’t know these islands as well as we do. What if Trent and I find the boat on the rocks out west? That’s where the currents would most likely pull it.” Alice looked very annoyed.

“Let the boys go.” Grandpa Jo said suddenly.

“I go too!” Tyler squealed, clapping his little hands.

“You have half an hour! That’s it and you come back the instant its starts raining any harder! Tyler stays here!” His mother barked angrily.

“Thanks mum, we’ll be quick.” Ryan promised, shouldering on a coat.

“Aw man, do we really have to go back out there? My shoes are squishy!” Trent complained. Ryan shouldered his friend to the door. Grandpa Jo watched them go with a smile. That boy really was something. Tyler waved them goodbye, bouncing up and down in Debra’s lap.

Outside the two boys looked up. The clouds were still swelling. The light rain was sure to be just a pause in the storm. Ryan grabbed a coil of rope from the shed. They jogged down the street.

“You really think we’ll find something?” Trent called.

“I don’t know but at least I’ll know I tried.” Ryan said. Water splashed up around their feet, soaking into their socks.

“Honestly dude, you’re too noble for your own good.” Trent yelled back. The wind was starting to pick up, turning the gentle sleet into stinging needles. The boys jogged down the road. The currents around the islands had mood swings. The locals knew that often, in bad weather, the currents could change closer to island.

“We should try near Point Hut. That’s where that wreck ended up last time.” Ryan panted. The last storm had carried a very unfortunate fishing boat around the entire island and planted it on the west side, away from the mainland. Thankfully, there hadn’t been anyone on it. Deep in the distance, there was a roll of thunder.

“This is crazy, we should go back!” Trent yelled. When it came to fight or flight, Trent was a flight. He was a flight through and through. Ryan paused, slowing back to a walk. It wasn’t fair to drag Trent along.

“You can go back to the house. I don’t want to force you into coming with me.” Ryan said carefully. Trent gave a noisy sigh, pulling his jacket closer.

“Come back without you? No thanks. Your mum would kill me. Let’s just have a quick look, if we see anything we can get on the old battery radio. If not, we go back. Nice and simple yeah?” Trent asked. Ryan nodded.

“Yeah.” The boys took off, going faster this time. In some places the water on the black road was ankle deep. There were no other houses out this way. On his right was the town, on his left was the ocean, roaring and tumbling over huge pointed shafts of dark stone. Something caught his eye.

Ryan went off the road, jogging through the thick wild grass, water sucking at his legs. He slid down the hill and onto the rocky shelves.

“Dude, what are you doing!?” Trent shouted, sliding down after him.

“I thought I saw something moving in the water!” Ryan carefully climbed across the rock shelves. Trent stayed back, pale faced and practically jumping up and down.

“Are you insane!? The waves are coming in higher by the second! Get off the rocks! Are you listening to me!? Get. Off. The. Rocks!” Trent screamed over the howling wind.

“Just give me a second” Ryan barked. He squinted into the black swirling surf, the water broken by thick swirls of frothing pale grey foam. Had the water played a trick on him? He swore that for that moment he saw…

There!

“Hey, hey can you hear me!?” Ryan shouted. Trent frowned.

“What the hell are you yelling at? There’s nothing there! Let’s go, come on! The ship isn’t here!” Trent begged.

“I saw someone out there.” Ryan called. He stood in the wind and rain, perched on the black rock, his jeans clinging to his legs, his dark hair wet and sleeked back. Ryan stared and stared, trying to see a glimpse of colour in those depths. Suddenly he saw something. And it was not a person. The water seemed to part as though something big was swimming beneath the surface. A Greenland Shark maybe? There was the slightest glimmer of a thick fin and it was gone. Just then, something red caught his eyes. In all the dark, he saw a red shirt and a safety vest.

“Trent!” Ryan yelled excitedly.

“I see him. Throw me the rope!” Trent yowled over the roaring wind. Ryan threw one end of the rope to Trent. What Trent didn’t realize was that Ryan was tying the other end of the rope around his own waist. He toed off his shoes.

“You got the rope?” Ryan yelled. Trent finished knotting it tight around a thick tall rock.

“Yeah, I got it, so how are we going to… what the fuck are you doing!?” Trent screamed. Ryan took a twostep run and leapt from the rocks.

When Ryan hit the water, it was icy cold. He had only the briefest of seconds to orientate himself before a wave smashed into him. The cold was intense, like band of steel wrapping around his chest and crushing his ribs. His head broke the surface of the water and he took a huge gulp of air. He bunched his legs and dove, swimming for the light of the safety vest.

It was dark and it was cold. The current pulled almost violently on his body, tugged at his jeans and shirt. For one panicked moment, he realized that the current was dragging him sideways, closer to the sharp black rocks of an out growing shelf. He kicked harder and angled himself. Like all of the kids that grew up on the island, Ryan was a fantastic swimmer. His Grandpa had taught him but truthfully Ryan took to the water more naturally than a duck. He had swum confidently and powerfully at a young age. He had quite a few trophies from events he had won on the mainland.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling.

His muscles burned and his lungs ached. Often, he ended up accidently swallowing water. It was difficult to stay on course, the waves crashing in on him in what felt like, all directions, pounding into him with the force of falling stones. The ocean underneath was a different kind of loud. It rumbled and pulled, silt, seaweed and debris were swirling around him, catching on his feet and hands.

Finally he could see the person. It was in fact, a man. He was face up and his eyes were closed. It was too soon to tell if he was alive. He wrapped one arm around the man and pulled hard on the rope. It took all the strength he had just to stay afloat. Poor Trent was having to pull him, and the man in against the violent current. Even with Ryan kicking as hard as he could it was tough work and very slow going. The man felt so cold. If Ryan didn’t get him to the shore then he would likely die if he wasn’t already dead.

He made a decision. With his free hand he untied the knot and wrapped the end of the rope around the man. Another wave crashed into them.

Ryan was dragged under.

God, he had never been so tired. His muscles were cramping, his left leg seizing up but he couldn’t afford to panic. He swam for the surface. Breaking the water, he realised with horror that he had been pulled back out. Trever was still pulling the man in. He was yelling but Ryan couldn’t hear him. Ryan kicked his legs and tried for shore again.

Something brushed his foot and it didn’t feel like seaweed.

Don’t panic, keep going, it’s just another drill. Ryan tried to say to himself. Just another training drill. A streak of lighting lit up the sky. The storm was returning. If Ryan didn’t get out of the water soon he would not be getting out at all. Fear and adrenaline helped him push through the exhaustion but the current seemed to be getting stronger all the time. His toes brushed something again as his head was pulled under by another wave. He could barely see but for the briefest of moment he could swear there was someone else in the water with him. Another person from the ship? Had the rope broken? Was he catching up to the man?

There was no red shirt, no safety vest. The water was so violent he couldn’t believe it was a shark. Surely his luck couldn’t be that bad? He kept pushing for the shore. His hand bumped a rock and was sliced up. It didn’t matter much. The sting faded. The cold had penetrated so entirely that Ryan couldn’t really feel his hands anyway. The presence of the other person was becoming foggy. Dimly he became aware that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. He was barely gaining any ground.

He was drowning.

The thought pierced his unconscious. He broke the surface of the water. Trent had gotten the man back onto dry land. The two boys stared at each other. Trent picked up the rope and threw it out as far as he could. It landed in the water. Ryan tried to grab for it. His fingers weren’t working. It slid away, further and further. With one last burst of energy he grabbed the rope but he could barely get it around his waist. Water spilled into his mouth and he chocked. Suddenly, the knot tightened around him, fingers securing it in place. They weren’t his fingers. Were they? He couldn’t think, could barely tread water. It seemed like there was a glimmer of long silver hair. A large piece of drift wood struck him in the back of his head and he saw stars in the darkness behind his eyes. He flopped forward.

“Hang on buddy, I’m getting you out!” Trent screamed. Ryan didn’t remember much else. He was back on land, spluttering and coughing. There were voices, shouting and talking. Trent was helping him up.

There were other people. He could barely walk, barely move. He didn’t remember getting home; he didn’t remember Tyler crying or Trent yelling. He didn’t remember a woman crying hysterically over the find of her unconscious but alive husband. He felt warm blankets, felt the hot towels. It wasn’t long before he was asleep, dreaming deeply and heavily of that someone else in the water, someone else outside his window, someone else standing in his room.

\--

END

\--


	3. The Aftermath

\--

Chapter Three  
The Aftermath

\--

The rage of the storm had finally died away leaving a strange stillness to the Island. Trees lay ripped and broken, the thick dark grass lay flattened and the birds were still refusing to come out of their hiding places. The school had been closed for the day and many of the students were out starting the clean-up. Ryan's mother was forced to leave early to assess the damage at her work place. She was not happy to leave Ryan behind and it didn't take the teen long to work out that his grand farther had been put on guard duty.

"Grandpa, I’m fine." He insisted for the third time that morning. Grandpa Jo beamed and passed him a plate of scrambled eggs, the generator finally up and running.

"We just want to make sure lad, you took quite a knock. A little rest won’t hurt. Besides, you know your mother is positively fuming with you. You should consider yourself lucking she hasn’t shackled you to the bed." Said the old man, pulling up a seat beside him. The local doctor, Deron had driven over the night before. Ryan had a concussion, a gash on his right hand and a low temperature. Deron had the teen wrapped in blankets and monitored carefully but otherwise was not overly concerned. Tyler didn't understand all the fuss and was quite happy to stay and watch Disney movies with his older brother, stealing some of the blanket.

Debra had stuck around, making phone calls and helping Jo with the kids. Debra had a sister named Dania. The two lived together in their cottage. It begged the question, why did Debra need her house keys? Couldn’t Dania have just let her sister in? Ryan was curious as to why her sister hadn’t tried to contact her but, in all honesty, it probably wasn’t much of a surprise.

Debra’s sister truly was nothing like her. She was mean spirited and wore a stone etched expression of relentless disappointment. Her mood was constantly foul but even worse when she came in contact with children. She would hiss at them, like a cat at a terrier. She sent them scuttling with a few cold words and a wave of her arm. There were times when Ryan could hardly believe that the kind woman that had babysat him was the sister of someone so socially distorted. He tried to image the two sisters playing together as children. Grandpa Jo tried to raise the boys with the idea that judging was wrong. Perhaps something serious had happened to Dania when she was a girl that caused her to be so hostile?

These days, Dania was not very functional. She spent most of her days in bed despite being only a few years older than Debra. Ryan had heard Debra speaking to his mother once:

“It’s like the life has just been sucked out of her.” Debra had said sadly. Alice had pattered her hand gently.

Pete had dropped off Debra’s keys along with a letter. Ryan was still fuzzy on exactly what happened the night before but the letter was from a woman named Mary. Her husband had been on the boat and Ryan had saved his life. The letter had a big picture of a pink heart at the bottom and scribble hand writing from a small child that Ryan could hardly read. He smiled to himself. Trent had been amazing, he left out the part where Ryan had jumped into the ocean and instead played it down to the other teen just going in knee deep and pulling the man out. He had supposedly slipped and fell, resulting in his concussion. Alice had not been born yesterday but at that time she had been more concerned about getting her son home.

The day after however Ryan’s mum had left without saying a world. He knew she was angry.

Really, really angry.

It would be a long time before she let him have some freedom again. He couldn’t blame her. In hind sight, what he did was incredibly stupid. He risked that man’s life. He nearly killed them both. Ryan glanced down at his bandaged hand. His head was a little tender and he had drunk his way through more glasses of water then he could count. He lay back on the couch, his laptop in his lap. He had an old school friend who lived in Australia. They went to primary school together back when Ryan still lived on the mainland. The boy’s name was Nick. He had a sister who blew glass or something like that. Nick stayed in touch over Facebook.

Nick: Storms? r you kidding me? Do u want 2 know what we’re doing over here? Boiling in our own house. Literally. Its 41 degrees Celsius outside! I can literally cook my eggs and bacon off the hood of my mums car!

Ryan: Lucky for some. I nearly drowned yesterday pulling a guy out of the water. The more I think about, the dumber that idea seemed.

Nick: Did u save the guy?

Ryan: Yeah

Nick: Then I say u did awesome. Just don’t make it a habit.

Ryan laughed. Tyler looked up.

“What’s so funny?” the toddler demanded. Ryan leant over and ruffled his hair.

“I’m reading some emails, that’s all. Why don’t you pick us a movie to watch?” Tyler nodded and started rummaging through their DVD box. Ryan laid back into the cushions. He let his mind wander. It still felt like he was being rocked by the churning water. He could still faintly hear the ocean. Had he really seen someone else in the water beside him? Trent had said he dragged him to shore on his back but Ryan remembered falling forward, face down in the water. When had he rolled over and how? Maybe it had just been a survival instinct to turn over.

“I’m going to have a shower. A proper one.” Ryan decided, sitting up with a wince. Grandpa Jo stuck his head around the corner.

“You be careful. Watch that head of yours. That reminds me, we had to take your wet clothes off last night.” Ryan made a face.

“Grandpa!”

“Oh it’s nothing we haven’t seen before! Keep your hair on! We left you with your boxers. You didn’t need hypothermia on top of a concussion. Anyway, I thought you might want this back.” Ryan flushed red and his grandpa handed him a necklace. He looked at it with a frown.

“This isn’t mine.” The boy said. Grandpa Jo laughed.

“Well you were wearing it so I guess it is. How hard exactly did you hit that noggin of yours?” Jo said with a boyish grin. Ryan frowned. The pendant was round and smooth. It looked like it was made from some kind of shell. The cord was worn leather.

“I guess a bit harder than I thought. Thanks grandpa.” Ryan muttered. Ryan wobbled to the bathroom, necklace in one hand. He shed his robe. His muscle ached worse than any marathon run or weights class. His legs were in the most pain.

“Suppose that’s what happens when I try to drown myself.” Ryan muttered quietly. He sat on the floor of the shower, allowing the hot water to pour over him and wash away the scent of salt and sweat. He stared at his shell necklace. It wasn’t his. Of that, he was sure. It didn’t look like something his mother would wear either. She wore plain small, gold jewellery, not large shells on leather cord. The shell had been polished meticulously. There was a symbol etched into the back. Ryan had no clue what it was. Strangely fascinated, he put it back around his neck.

After the hot shower, he left Tyler to watch his cartoon and crept stiffly back into bed. So maybe a day off wouldn’t be so bad. He grabbed the book he was given. He wasn’t a huge reader but he was sick of movies. He flipped through the pages. At the start of every chapter was a detail black and white illustration. One picture caught his attention. It was of a man with long pale hair. Well, at least the top half was a man. A long tail arched out from under him.

“Mermaids? That’s original.” Ryan muttered.

Ryan grinned. Well, saved by a mermaid in a storm. At least it made a great story to tell the grandkids someday. He lay back in the covers and dozed quietly. The day dragged on and by the afternoon, his headache was gone. He was still sore and stiff but that would probably take a day or two before it started to disappear. He padded out to the kitchen. Jo looked up from his cup of tea.

“Glad to see you up kiddo. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Ryan admittedly sheepishly. He opened the fridge to find it full of groceries. He frowned. Were mermaids buying them food now? He snorted in amusement.

“Oh, ah, your mother dropped them off before going back out. She didn’t want to wake you.” Grandpa Jo took a sip of his drink. Ryan sighed.

“More like she’s too angry to speak to me right now. I don’t blame her. It was a pretty dumb thing to do, going out in that storm.” Ryan replied, pulling out some chicken fillets and vegetables.

“True, but I don’t think young Mary and her family feels the same way. Alice is a good woman but she is also a mother. So, she’ll worry like a mother. It’s what they do. It’s partly why us men need to stick together.” Said Grandpa Jo with a wide grin. Ryan laughed.

“I’m going to make chicken curry for dinner.” Ryan announced, wanting something to do. The older man gave a nod.

“Sounds darn good to me.” Debra took Tyler for a walk down the road to check on their neighbours whilst Ryan cooked. The cut on his hand ached and Jo eyed it with a raised eyebrow.

“So… I suppose you got that when you... slipped over and knocked your head was it?” Ryan winced. His teacher would often say that Trent had a silver tongue. He could sweet talk his way out of almost anything. Unfortunately, Ryan couldn’t. He didn’t like lying to his family

“I may have gone a little further then knee deep.” Ryan mumbled, pouring the coconut milk into the pan.

“Figured as much. I’m proud of you for saving that man but I am also sad. You boys mean the world to your mother and I and I think you sometimes forget that. You need to be more careful.” Jo rinsed his tea cup in the sink. Ryan felt a twinge of guilt.

“I will be.” Ryan promised, stirring the curry with his good hand. Debra stayed for tea and the four ate, chatting away. Apparently, Tyler had seen a turtle on the rock shelves. After washing up, the boys retreated to bed and Jo said goodnight to Debra.

“You’ve been such a good help dear, thank you.” Grandpa Jo said with a smile. She beamed.

“It was no problem at all. Thank you for letting me use your phone. Mine doesn’t work very well. Good night, don’t be afraid to pop by if you need anything.” She waved good bye and stepped out into the chilly air.

Ryan sat on his bed, on top of his thick pattern quilt. His grandmother had put it together for him when he was a baby. Each patch represented aspect of his family’s life. There was a patch for the roaring sea, the night sky, the dinner table, his baby crib and even, strangely enough, a little pirate ship. He intended to give it his own kids one day. His room was small but comfortable. He had a large thick window and soft pale blue curtain that showed the dark rolling sea in the distance. The floor was old dark hardwood with a fluffy rug over the top. The rug was a bit faded and the corners were a bit tattered but Ryan liked it all the same. He had a tall book shelf, a dresser, his bed and a little work desk. There was only one television in his house and it lived in the main room where everyone could watch it. Ryan had his laptop anyway. He didn’t need a TV in his room. There was a quire knock at his door.

“Hey stranger.” Greeted his mother with a shy smile. Ryan grinned, closing his laptop.

“Hey, come in.” Alice sat down on the chair beside Ryan’s work desk.

“I’m sorry I missed dinner. It was delicious.” She said hesitantly. Ryan nodded.

“That’s alright. I know you have to work late on Tuesdays.” He answered. An awkward silence filled the room. Alice sighed.

“I don’t ever want to find you like that again Ryan. Ever.” She said. Her voice was somewhere between anger and fear and Ryan felt another stab of guilt. The boy dropped his head.

“I know mum. I’m sorry.” She reached around and hugged him, the anger dissipating.

“How would you feel about moving to the mainland to live with your cousins?” She asked softly. Ryan sat up a little straighter, frowning.

“What do you mean?” He said.

"I want you to stay with your cousins on the mainland for a while." Alice said softly. Ryan's jaw dropped.

"What, why? What about my job and looking after Tyler, I can't just leave!" His mother looked uncomfortable.

"It's your holidays. You shouldn't spend it on this rainy island. I have already called your uncle AND Mr Simmons, and he's agreed to let you take a few days off." Ryan's face tipped into a frown.

"This isn't about me having a holiday is it? This is about me getting hurt in the storm and that boat going down." Ryan accused, closing his laptop. Alice gently closed the old wooden door to his bedroom to give them some privacy.

"You were hysterical. You kept talking about another person swimming in the water." Alice whispered. Ryan tensed.

"I was a little concussed. That's all. I was confused and concussed." He said carefully. His mother gave him a hurt look.

"Ryan, you’re a good boy and I love you but I want you to get away from this island for a while. Tyler will be coming with you. Just for a few days, please?" Ryan sighed. In all honesty his mother rarely asked him to do things. She was clearly worried about him. Besides, he couldn't avoid his cousins forever.

"Alright mum, I'll go. But just for a few days." Alice's face brightened, though the skin was still tight around her eyes.

"Thank you. I'll ring tomorrow morning and let them know you boys are on your way." Alice hugged her son tight. Ryan nodded and watched his mother leave the room. It was his fault really, for leaping into the ocean in a storm. He was lucky he wasn't killed. His mother was strong but he doubted she would be able to cope if his stupidity had cost him his life. A chill swept through his body. He had never been afraid of dying before but the thought of leaving his family left him feeling cold. Ryan parted the curtain of his window to look outside at the night sky. With the clouds now gone there was a blissful moment of peace, the stars completely filling the sky with a brilliant shine. Without realising it he found himself searching for the shadow that had stood outside in the street only two nights before. He frowned. He was jumping at shadows. Ryan dulled his lamp, settling under the covers.

The tapping on his window started not long after. A cold sweat broke out over his back. He tried to ignore it but it continued. It was just quite enough to be a branch, just constant enough to let him know it definitely wasn’t.

He swung his leg over the side of his bed and fumbled for a torch. The rest of the house hold was asleep. The rooms were all dark except Tyler’s who still had his dim night light. Ryan crept down the hall and out the front door. There was nothing out there and he was going to prove it.

Outside the grass was wet underfoot. The roaring of the sea grew louder and the scent of rain and salt clung to the air. He walked stiffly to his window. Unsurprisingly, there was no-one there. Frustrated he went right to the window and pointed the torch at the ground. What was he looking for? Footprints?

“This is ridiculous.” He grumbled. He stood up straight. The hair rose on the back of his neck. He spun around.

“Hello Ryan.” The man was tall, an old hat covering his head and leaving his whole face dark.

“Who are you and what the hell are you doing outside my window?” Ryan snapped, still trying to keep his voice low. He was spooked and tired and not quite in his right mind to be dealing with all this.

“Relax Ryan. I’m a friend of your father’s. More like a body guard actually.” Ryan stood there, momentarily stupefied.

“My father? My father, the bald banker who works in California, Tom Regale? I’ve met him like three times in my whole life. Why would he hire a body guard?” Ryan spluttered.

“Oh no, he didn’t hire me. The plan was to allow you and your family some time to work all this out. It has, after all been a rather traumatizing experience for all of you but circumstances are changing. You are nearing your eighteenth birthday and I won’t wait for much longer.” Ryan opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Traumatizing? Mum divorced Tom when I was like, four! I barely even remember what the guy looks like. I’m pretty sure we aren’t too badly traumatised by his absence. Is there some kind of will I’m supposed to be inheriting or something? Is that why you’re here?” The man had a strange stillness to him, a fluidity of movement that didn’t look quite right.

“You truly have no idea why I’m here?” The man said finally. He sounded genuinely confused. Ryan gave a huff of frustration.

“Look, this is ridiculous. It is the middle of the night. Stop hanging around my window. If you want to talk about my father, come back at a normal hour and we’ll sit down and talk about this.” Ryan said, trying to sound like a proper adult rather than a hysterical teenager. A light flicked on in the house. In that brief moment of light, Ryan caught a glimpse of a lock of shiny silver hair. The man’s features were sharp with high cheekbones and deep dark blue eyes.

“Come with me.” The man said hastily. He held out his hand, as though he expected Ran to take it without hesitation. The strange thing was, Ryan wanted too. The boy stood like a deer in headlights, trying to analyse this strange need to go with him.

“Go where? If you hadn’t noticed, we’re on the middle of a freakin island!” He spluttered, even as his feet slowly began to move.

“Ryan, what’s going on out there, who are you talking to?” Ryan spun around. Grandpa Jo opened the front door to the house.

“I was just…” Ryan looked over his shoulder.

The man was gone.

“Getting some fresh air.” He finished lamely. His grandfather raised an eyebrow.

“In the middle of the night? Come inside now.” The old man guided him gently back inside the warmth of the house. Ryan frowned as he stared at where the man had been. Nothing, not even a shoeprint on the soft damp soil where he had stood.

“Grandpa, have you ever felt like you were going crazy?” Ryan muttered. The old man smiled.

“All the time, my boy. All the time.”

\--

END

\--


	4. The Wreckage

\--

Chapter Four  
The Wreckage

\--

It was now three days after the big storm and Grandpa Jo woke Ryan up early. With a toolbox in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, Jo led his grandson from door to door down the neighbourhood to do some repairs. Trent met up with them early and the three set to cleaning up. Many houses had cracked roof tiles, fallen branches, broken windows and fences or clothes lines that had been ripped down. Trent and Ryan were currently fixing Mr Bentley’s picket fence whilst Jo and Mrs Bentley attempted to catch her loose chickens.

“We just haven’t had the time to fix their pens. That storm did a number on us!” Mrs Bentley said as she snatched up one of her snowy white hens. The chook gave a loud angry squawk.

“Oh hush now Suzy.” She said. The hen calmed as she gently stroked its feathers. Trent grinned.

“You name all your chickens?” He asked, holding the paling in place so Ryan could nail it properly. The older woman beamed.

“But of course!” Once the fence was complete the boys headed over to the chicken coop and helped Jo mend the wooden door to the main hutch.

“You know, we should get some chooks ourselves. I always had chooks on our farm when I was boy. Having some pets would be good for that Tyler of ours.” Grandpa Jo said, cleaning some mud off his forehead with a dirty hankie. The hanky was so dirty that all he ended up doing was smearing it across his forehead. Trent snorted and Ryan grinned. One of the roasters had become quite bold and was sticking his beak into the tool box for a look around.

“That would be awesome if we could get mum to agree.” Ryan said, shooing the rooster away. Mrs Bentley had been so thrilled with their work that she handed both Trent and Ryan a large homemade pie each for them to take home for dinner.

“Will your dad be happy?” Ryan asked, nudging Trent. Trent smirked.

“Are you kidding? If my dad doesn’t have to cook it, he’ll be happy, even if the pie is filled with sawdust.” The boys laughed. It felt good to be back outside working. The stiffness of Ryan’s late-night swim was finally wearing off. His mind occasionally drifted back to several nights before and a memory of a strange silver haired figure beckoning to him. It all seemed insane. His fingers often drifted to the shell necklace he had hidden beneath his shirt. If it wasn’t for the necklace he might have just thrown it off as some weird post-traumatic stress hallucination.

“Your house is next lad. We’ll drop the pies off there and keep going down the neighbourhood.” Grandpa Jo told Trent. Trent’s house was as old as Ryan’s. It was made of stone and heavy dark wood. Trent unlocked the front door and let them all in. He set the pies down on the counter. His father wasn’t home. He was probably out in the tiny van doing the deliveries.

“Anything need fixing around here?” Ryan asked. Trent nodded.

“Yeah, some of the roof shingles came loose in the storm. It leaked right into the kitchen. Fell flat on my ass in the morning because I didn’t see the water.” Trent grumbled. Ryan grinned. It didn’t take long to fix the roof. Grandpa Jo wasn’t as sprite as he used to be and trusted the boys on the roof. He moved off into the next street where all the little shops lay quiet and battered.

“You know, there is one more house we have to do on this block.” Ryan grumbled. Trent made a face as he passed up a few more nails.

“Can’t we just pretend we forgot?” Trent whined.

“You know that wouldn’t be right or fair.” Ryan sighed, hammering the nail into place.

“You’re too damn noble.” Trent grumbled. The house they were talking about was out on its own. It belonged to Debra. Debra was technically Ryan’s neighbour but the house was set far back from the rest of the houses as though it were ashamed of itself. So, what was the problem? The problem was that sweet lovely pre-school teacher Debra had a sister. Mean, cruel and barely functional Dania. Dania did very little in the house other than yell and scream. Ryan climbed down the ladder and began to pack up the tools.

“Let’s get this over with.” The boys set off again but with little enthusiasm. In all honesty, Ryan quietly wished his grandfather was with them. Dania was spiteful, that was for sure but for some reason she was more spiteful towards Ryan than any other human being on the island. Ryan didn’t know why. Some of the younger children used to play pranks on ‘Dania the Witch’ but Ryan had never been one of them. They shuffled up to the cottage to find Debra and Trent’s father by the van.

“Dad?” Trent called. His father looked up, a frown on his stern looking face.

“Ah boys! You’re just in time. We need to move this fridge and I can’t lift then darn thing on my own.” There was movement in the house, the curtains ruffled and silence filled the air. All the animals were hiding.

Smart animals.

The door flung open.

“Get off my property!” Dania screeched, pointing bony thin fingers at Ryan.

“Dania please, go back inside. They are just helping me move the fridge into the house.” Debra soothed. Dania was so thin, a blanket wrapped around her bony shoulders. She was in a nightgown, slippers on her small feet. Her hair was wildly long, almost to her knees and tied in a messy braid. Her eyes were bloodshot and wild.

“There is no way he is coming into my house!” Dania sneered at her sister, guarding the door way with raised arms, sunken eyes spearing. She looked like an emaciated vulture.

“Be reasonable Dania, he’s only helping me move the fridge.” Debra sighed.

“Get someone else! Anyone else! Just not him!” The woman screeched, her nearly black eyes sharpening their focus on Ryan.

“Pardon Ma’am but as soon as we move this fridge, the sooner I can be out of your way.” Ryan said as politely as he could.

“Don’t speak to me!” She shrieked. The neighbours were quietly closing their windows. Dania temper was not unfamiliar to them all. Ryan deflated slightly. Trent and his father exchanged glances.

“We can do it by ourselves.” Trent said uneasily. Debra looked both annoyed and embarrassed.

“I’m truly sorry about this Ryan. She hasn’t been sleeping very well lately.” Debra said, sounding quite tired herself.

“It’s alright.” Ryan replied uncomfortably.

“You’ve done enough work today anyway. Don’t forget your pie.” Trent called. His father frowned.

“Pie?”

“Mrs Bentley gave us both a pie for helping fix her fence.” Trent explained. His father’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Excellent.” Ryan turned and tried not to slouch as he walked away. He could still feel Dania’s hateful gaze on his back. The wiry woman refused to move until Ryan was completely out of sight.

\--

Later that night Ryan mashed some herbs, milk, butter and potato and served the oven heated pie with boiled carrots.

“This is delicious!” Ryan’s mother exclaimed. She had worked a long day at the science centre. Apparently, a lot of equipment had been damaged by the storm.

“Some days it feels like one step forward and two steps back in that place.” Alice exclaimed as she stripped off her heavy coat. The sight and smell of dinner drew her in like a moth to a flame. Ryan just gave a weak smile. The family sat at the table, Tyler kicking little socked feet as he blissfully nibbled a slice of carrot.

“Ryan honey, what’s wrong?” Alice prodded. Her son’s shoulders were hunched and he picked at his food. He frowned.

“Mum, you know Dania, Debra’s sister?” He asked. Grandpa Jo glanced at his daughter. She glanced back.

“Of course.”

“Well Trent and I went over to help Debra move a fridge and Dania wouldn’t let me on her property. Trent’s dad was there so they moved the fridge without me but…” Ryan trailed off.

“Honey, you know that Dania… she’s not… well she’s not quite all there.” Alice explained softly. Tyler tipped his head curiously.

“Where’s the rest of her?” Tyler giggled. Ryan gave his little brother a fond smile.

“Probably at the bottom of the ocean.” Ryan teased.

“You’re not wrong.” Grandpa Jo said in a strange voice. He jumped slightly as though Alice had kicked him under the table.

“That’s enough you too! She’s an ill woman and she requires a lot of space, that’s all.” Alice snapped, glaring at them with a sharp eye. Grandpa Jo went back to his food with strange submissiveness.

“But it feels like she hates me more than anyone else on this island.” Ryan grumbled. Alice’s face softened.

“She’s a complicated woman with a complicated past. No one could hate you Ryan. You are a wonderful person. Unfortunately, in this world, not everyone is loving towards each other.” Alice said gently. Her son gave her a weak smile.

“I love Ryan!” Tyler announced loudly, banging his fork on the table. The group laughed.

“I love you too little lemur.”

“Lemur!”

“On a much lighter note, Trent informed me that he and Catlin are going to the mainland tomorrow. You should go with them, have some fun. You’ve earned some time off.” Grandpa Jo said.

“Now that sounds like an excellent idea!” Alice exclaimed, keen to have her son away from the dreary place for the day. Ryan laughed.

“Well twist my arm why don’t you? Fine I’ll go. Is there anything we need whilst I’m on the mainland?” The boy asked.

“You’re over there to have fun but I suppose if you’re stopping in at that fancy fishing place I could use some more fishing line. Mr Bentley doesn’t have the gauge I need. I’ll write it down for you.” Grandpa Jo said. Ryan nodded. They cleared the dishes and Alice wrote a thank you letter to Mrs Bentley whilst Ryan got Tyler ready for bed. Once the clingy toddler was in bed Ryan slipped into his own room. Thankfully, Tyler had never been difficult to get to sleep. Even when he was a baby he mostly slept all the way though each night. Grandpa Jo insisted that Ryan was the same and that it was the sound of the ocean that put the boys to sleep. There must be something to that because whenever Ryan stayed with his cousins in the city he never slept very well.

He dreamt of the sea that night, the rolling waves rocking him gently. A streak of silver swum past his vision.

“Hello?” He called out. His mouth did not fill with water even though he was suspended in the ocean.

“Come with me Ryan.” Said a voice. That voice. The man was in front of him. This time there was no hat to restrain the mane of silver locks. There was no neat suit to hide unearthly pale hard cut muscle and no pants and shoes that could ever compare to the long white glittering tail. Ryan followed the creature, mystified by his grace. The water got dark, richer and bluer. Bubbles rose from the depth and he felt a strange heavy sense of foreboding.

“Wait.” Ryan called. He didn’t want to go down any further. Didn’t want to do down deeper. The ocean was so vast.

Land, where was land?

Below him looked bottomless. Black. Still. His mind started to race. He could imagine an enormous sea serpent rising up and swallowing whole, mouth wider than any whale. He shuddered with cold terror. He tread the water.

“Come Ryan.” Called the voice. Was it his imagination or was the voice beginning to sound impatient? The creature swum past him. Ryan didn’t want to be in the water anymore. He swam up, up to where the sun was meant to be.

Except there was no sun. Every time he went to swim up, he ended up swimming down. Suddenly he felt like he was drowning again, being tossed about by the currents. This is what it had felt like, to not know which way to go, to be at the mercy of the sea.

Suddenly hands gripped his arms.

“Steady little petrel.’ Said the creature. Ryan breathed heavily, bubbles travelling up from his mouth.

Petrel? As in the sea bird?

“Sea birds that appear to walk on water as they hunt. They live on the water and fly through storms.” It explained. Ryan used the arms to anchor himself. The man’s skin was soft but underneath was hard muscle, like satin covered marble.

“Who are you?” Ryan whispered. That long silver tail brushed against his leg. His body twitched violently in pain. The edges of that tail were sharp like a king fish spine. Blood leaked into the water like thick dark ink.

“Ryan, you will come with me now. Your time on land it up.”

“You keep saying that!” Ryan rasped, his ankle stung.

“You don’t remember. That is understandable. You were young but it’s time that you understand what you are, what your family has done. You are responsible for paying back that debt.” Said the voice. The creature’s eyes were stunning. Its skin was alabaster pale, shining in the limited light. Those pupils were almost non-existent in pools of liquid black.

“What debt, what are you talking about?” Ryan croaked. His legs were getting tired. His left leg was starting to cramp again.

“Your family owes us a blood debt. You will pay that blood debt. You will come with me. You will give up your life on land and spend the rest of your existence as mine.”

“Yours?” The words were getting harder to say.

“Mine.”

\--

“Ryan, get up!” Alice yelled, knocking on the door. Ryan sat upright with a violent jerk, his body drenched in sweat. Ryan threw on his clothes and hurried to the kitchen. He was late and his ankle throbbed with a strange phantom pain. The dream was slowly fading into his subconscious as he smeared jam over his toast.

“Honestly, you were sleeping like the dead! I couldn’t wake you for a minute there. It’s not like you to over sleep.” Alice said as she threw on her jacket.

“You be good now. All of you.” She announced, giving each of her boys a lipstick kiss on the cheek.

“We promise.” Grandpa Jo laughed. Alice gave them all one last glance before disappearing into the morning. Ryan licked the jam off his fingers and grabbed his wallet.

“I’ll be back this afternoon with the five o’clock ferry.” Ryan called. He would have to hurry if he didn’t want to miss the morning ferry. He ran the whole way which thankfully, wasn’t that far. By the time he reached the wharf his ankle had stopped aching. Trent and Catlin were waiting for him.

“We were starting to worry. It’s not like you to be late.” Catlin said with a shy smile. Ryan doubled over, panting for breath.

“Sorry, I over slept.” He admittedly sheepishly. They bought their tickets and climbed aboard the old ferry. There were a few other locals and a couple of people the teens didn’t recognise. The ferry moved off, cutting through the choppy water. The day was one of the better days for the island, overcast but with a little sun peaking through. There was no wind and the sea spray felt rejuvenating on Ryan’s face.

“First place I’m going to go is that new waffle house!” Trent announced. Catlin frowned.

“You already had breakfast.” She laughed.

“I’m a growing boy! I can always go for seconds.” The waves lapped softly at the edges of the boat. The fresh salt water air filled their lungs. The sun glittered gold on the water, illuminating the city in the distance. A fishing boat blasted its horn in greeting as it passed. They waved. Ryan settled at the edge of the boat, relaxing with the gentle rocking of the ship. He loved sailing. A good way to earn a bit of cash was for him to help out the men on the fishing boats. Now that he was older, he could go on his own to the mainland and help out. The fishermen were always happy to see him. Ryan had a knack for the ocean and its ways. He could smell a storm before the clouds even touched the sky. His grandfather had taught him well.

“Oh look! The markets are on today!” Catlin exclaimed with a wide grin. Along the jetty, little stalls were set up on the cobblestone. People bustled and shuffled about in the morning sunshine. It was a good day for it. The ferry docked and the crowd swapped places, tourists hustled onto the boat and the locals moved off into the city.

“Can we go?” Catlin begged, tugging on the boy’s arms and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She pouted with full lips and long lashes.

“Please?” Trent huffed impatiently. Ryan just laughed.

“Come on, let’s go check it out. They might even have some food stalls.” Ryan encouraged. It certainly smelt like there was. Trent brightened. The trio set off. Catlin was in her element. She often loved the travel and was quite good at haggling. It didn’t take her long to find a pale lavender scarf she liked. Trent found a kebab stall and Ryan found a stall that sold second hand goods. He looked over the kitchen cutlery and old candle holders. A certain knife caught his eye. It had a strong handle and a wicked curved looking blade. It was very familiar. He pulled his own fishing knife from his boot.

“They look really similar.” He said, perplexed. The salesman eyed him carefully.

“Where’d a nice lad like you get a knife like that one?” said the old man, a wooden pipe hanging from his cracked lips.

“My dad gave it to me a long time ago. One of the only useful things he ever gave me.” Ryan said.

“Your old man much of a sailor?” Asked the salesman, tapping his pipe against the table. Ryan frowned.

“Uh, no. Not really. He works in California as a banking consultant or something.” The old man raised a thickly bristled eyebrow.

“No banker owns a knife quite like that one. It’s a local design. You can tell from the carving in the hilt. Good metal too. Hard to get these days.” Ryan stared at his own fishing knife. It did have carving. Faded from years of use but still there. It was true that he had never needed to sharpen the blade for as long as he had owned it.

“What can you tell me about them? Do you know who made them?” Ryan asked. The old man nodded grimly.

“Well, I can’t say who made them but supposedly each ship from this area had one on board. The symbols were custom designed for the captain. This one here has a trident on it. Let’s see the one you have.” Ryan handed it over.

“Yours has got some kind of bird, an osprey maybe or…”

“A petrel.” Ryan said dumbly. The old man gave a curt nod.

“Could well be. Tell you what. It would be a shame to separate the two of these and quite frankly I’d rather sell this to a local who’s going to put it too some use rather than some damn tourist who’ll sit it on their mantel piece back in their fancy hotel. I’ll sell this one to you for half price.” Ryan handed over the money and slotted one knife in each boot. He felt a little numb. That sense of foreboding was back.

“I don’t suppose these ships that were given the knives were outstanding citizens of the navy or something?” he asked. The old man laughed, a deep belly of a sound.

“Not exactly. The story goes that those who had these blades were pirates.”

“Ryan, come on!” Trent yelled. The dark hair boy nodded his thanks and dashed off. The trio went from stall to stall. Catlin was the first to notice just how quite Ryan had become. She found a stall selling fresh deep-fried doughnuts and promptly bought a box to share. Birds whistled jumped from one low roof top to the other. The crowd bustled around them, yelling, laughing, and whistling. Licking the icing sugar off his fingers, Ryan headed into the fishing store and bought his grandfather the fishing line he needed. They wandering around for a while, content to stay near the peer.

The day had become quite hot. Trent and Ryan had stripped off their shirts and shoes. Tourists were swimming in the water. The bay was shallow and well protected, far better than the black jagged rocks of the stormy island. The day dragged in that sort of lazy pleasant way. The breeze tugged gently and the seagull pestered them for food. They chattered about everything and nothing in particular as they sat on the peer. The boys were fishing. Catlin was content to watch. They didn’t really expect to catch anything. The waters were too crowded with noisy swimmers and small boats. Suddenly someone screamed.

“Oh my God Julia! She fell in, she can’t swim!” A woman was screaming. Ryan didn’t think twice. He leapt off the jetty and into the water. The water was deep blue and cold but nothing like the thrashing waters around the island. He swam with ease. He opened his eyes and he could see a young girl, maybe nine years old thrashing in the water, pink dress floating around her. His arm wrapped around her waist and with powerful legs, he swum to the surface. They broke the water as another man joined them. It was a lifeguard.

“I’ve got her.” Ryan called. The lifeguard helped the two back onto the jetty. The woman was frantic, clutching her spluttering daughter.

“She’s fine, just a little shaken.” Ryan said, handing over the littler girl. The girl seemed rather reluctant to let go.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” The woman sobbed, hugging Ryan tight despite him dripping with water. The crowd clapping and he received several hard pats on the back. The old man from the second-hand store gave him a knowing grin. Catlin watched with flushed cheeks as Ryan stood up, water dripping from his chiselled body, black hair swept back in messy tangles.

“You got a little drool just there.” Trent teased her. Catlin punched him, cheeks flushed.

“Ow!”

“You’re that guy from the news.” Said the lifeguard. Ryan frowned.

“News?”

“Yeah, you jumped into the water in that storm to save that guy from drowning. It was in the papers. You making a habit of saving people?” the man asked with a grin. Ryan shrugged awkwardly. He hadn’t realised his actions had made it into the local paper.

“Not intentionally.”

“Call me George. I don’t suppose you have ever thought about becoming a life guard?” Asked George. Ryan frowned. He hadn’t. He always loved swimming.

“No but it would be something I would love to do. I’ve done a few events on this beach before.”

“I knew I recognised your face! You won the beach marathon last summer, didn’t you? Ryan Regale, wasn’t it?” Ryan nodded. The man gave a whole-hearted laugh.

“The boss man is going to love you. Tell you what, if you’re interested you’ll have to attend some basic classes, a first aid session and of course, and some hard training. Come by next week on Monday.” George headed back to his post. The crowd began to die away but not before several of the tourist demanded a photo with the ‘town hero.’ Catlin was not impressed to watch several blonde, bikini teens snuggle close to Ryan for their photo. Trent was amused. Ryan just felt awkward. Finally, he was able to get away and put his shirt and boots back on. He felt better with the blade resting snuggly against his legs again. It would be long before they would need to climb back on the ferry for the trip home. Ryan ducked over to the fresh food and picked out an interesting sort of cheese and fish for home.

“How do you do it dude?” Trent asked once they were safely back on the ferry.

“Do what?” replied Ryan with a frown.

“You didn’t even blink. You just jumped.” Ryan shrugged.

“I don’t know. I just did what I felt was right.” He said, feeling awkward again.

“You’re one strange dude.” They stood in silence for a few awkward moments.

“Uhm… Maybe don’t tell me mum that I jumped into the ocean to save someone… Again.” Ryan said. Both Catlin and Trent laughed. Once back on the island, Trent and Catlin said good bye but not before Catlin gave him a rather long hug.

“She’s totally into you.” Trent sniggered. Ryan gave him a shove. Trent waved and promptly jogged off. Ryan was left on his own, trudging up the road. The sun was beginning to set and a strange fog was starting to roll in. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His house stood out like some strange hulking creature. The lights were on in the front room, making the structure glow. He let himself in to the house to be greeted by the wonderful smell of spaghetti bolognaise.

“Rye!” Tyler rushed over to him, arms up and out for a hug. Ryan swept his little brother up and strolled into the kitchen.

“I’m home.” His mother turned away from the pot she had been stirring. 

“Good timing, dinner is nearly ready. Did you have fun?” Ryan grinned nervously. His mother’s eyes seemed to be searching his very soul.

“Yeah. It was great, really busy with tourists. I got grandpa’s fishing line.” He said. Alice stared at him for a long tense moment.

“Hmm, well go wash up.” He breathed a sigh of relief. Tyler followed him to the bathroom, chattering away about a new game Alice had downloaded for him on the computer.

“And you collect caterpillars!” He was saying. Ryan stripped of his salt crusted clothes. He was careful to stow away his two knives before having a quick shower. Tyler stayed outside, completely indifferent and still rather loudly explaining all the rules of his computer game.

“Fog’s getting thicker by the minute out there.” Grandpa Jo said as he pulled up a chair at the dinner table. Ryan salivated at the large plate of spaghetti in front of him.

“Well the good weather was never going to last.” He sniggered. Alice sighed as she cut Tyler’s food up into smaller bites.

“Don’t I know it.” She grumbled.

“The forecast doesn’t look any better for the search tomorrow either.” She added. Ryan looked up from his plate.

“True, they found the wreckage of the ferry but there are still many people missing, seven confirmed dead.” Grandpa Jo said sadly. The family was silent for a few minutes, Tyler looking curiously at each of them. He was still too young to quite understand what was going on and Ryan wasn’t going to burst that happy little bubble for him. Alice changed the topic by asking more about what Ryan did that day.

After dinner Ryan retreated to his room. He lay on his bed, studying his new knife. He ran his fingertips over the carvings. Why would his father have a blade like this one? From what little he knew of the man he was a bit of a dweeb. Short, clumsy and very much a city boy. Alice had shown him a few photos. The man certainly hadn’t looked like any kind of seaman. Maybe it had been a family heirloom? Maybe Ryan’s other grandfather had been a sailor like grandpa Jo. Ryan had never met anyone from his dad’s side of the family. Ryan sort of preferred it that way. They didn’t want to be a part of Ryan’s life so he didn’t see why he should try and be a part of theirs.

Still.

Ryan turned off the lamp and hid the two blades under his bed. He wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to keep the second blade a secret from his family. Something about it just felt special and something else… dangerous? He pulled the covers over himself to block out the damp chill. In the dark of his bedroom he could swear he heard the tapping at his window. This time he did not get up to go look. He didn’t move his curtain to see the stranger and he turned off his phone. Childish maybe but somehow, he thought that maybe, just maybe, if he ignored all the strange things that were happening in his life then they would just… go away.

How very wrong he was.

\--

END

\--


	5. To The Sea

\--

Chapter Five  
To the Sea

\--

“I’m losing my patience with you Ryan.” Ryan spun in the water. The voice echoed oddly inside his mind. He was drifting again, submerged in the cold dark water. The merman was there. A flash of long sharp tail or the tangle of silver hair passed close.

“This isn’t real.” Ryan felt the water drag on his limbs. He was conscious of the shell necklace around his neck. It shimmered in the low light of the water.

“I’ve tried being patient and diplomatic.” The voice was a growl. The timber of the voice was melodically low. It almost didn’t match the long flowing hair, narrow face and high cheek bones of the creature.

“This is just a bad dream.” Ryan whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut. He felt cold fingers cup his face.

“If you want to protect your family and keep your secrets then you will come to me. This is real Ryan. Look at me.” Ryan tried to shake his head but the grip on his face turned painful. Ryan opened his eyes. The eyes in front were more sharklike then anything. Cold and dead looking. There was no compassion, no understanding. Nothing human.

Ryan kicked out. His foot collided with thick muscle. The sharp scales cut the top of his foot. The face of the creature twisted into a snarl, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Fine. So be it. I will break you just like I broke your father. Just know that what happens next will be entirely your fault.”

\--

Ryan sat bolt upright. His shirt stuck to his back with cold sweat. He threw the blankets off himself and turned on his lamp. The top of his aching foot was raw and bleeding from a few scrapes. It was still an hour or so until dawn but Ryan dared not go back to sleep. He yanked the shell necklace off himself and threw it violently into the bin, burying it under rubbish so he wouldn’t have to look at it. He sat on the edge of his bed, shaking.

Scared.

He was scared.

People have flashes in their life when they get scared. A knock at the door at an odd hour, a look from an unfriendly person down an ally, looking around to find yourself lost. This was a kind of sickening fear and Ryan didn’t have the slightest idea what to do. It was madness. Complete madness. He couldn’t talk to his family about it. What would he say? What could they do?

What was going to happen to him?

Grandpa Jo was always the first one up in the house. Jo considered it a call back to his long days in the navy. Even Tyler was pretty good at sleeping right through the night. Jo was shocked, therefore, when he rounded the corner into the loungeroom to find Ryan sitting up stiffly in the armchair.

“Ryan?” Ryan started nervously. His eyes were a little bloodshot and he had his legs tucked in close.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Ryan’s voice was a little raspy. The old man frowned.

“Bad dreams?” Ryan nodded. He looked off, jittery almost. His eyes darted from the window and its drawn curtains to the hallway that led to the front door.

“Come into the kitchen and we’ll make some tea.” Grandpa Jo said eyeing his grandson with some concern. Ryan followed woodenly and sat on one of the bar stools whilst Jo boiled the water and collected cups.

“Grandpa, do you remember the stories you used to tell me about the magical creatures that lived around the islands here?” Grandpa Jo stood up so fast from the refrigerator he nearly smacked his head on the overhead cabinet. He put the milk on the bench and stared at Ryan, brow furrowed.

“Yes. That was years ago. Why?” He watched Ryan shift uncomfortably.

“Were they ever… based on a true story or anything like that?” Ryan asked. Jo took a minute to pour the hot water into the cups with two tea bags. He added milk and a little honey to Ryan’s cup and stirred, the spoon clinking merrily against the porcelain.

“You could say that almost any story is based on some real event or another.”

“What about pirates?” Ryan asked. He took his cup, using it to warm his hands. Jo gave him a boyish grin.

“Well yes. The waters around here are rather well known for pirates historically speaking.” Ryan was watching him with sharp intensity.

“As for the magic islands and all that well that came from an old urban myth that the pirates used to stash their treasure on a few of these smaller islands. Supposedly they spread tales of ferocious sea monsters to chase away anyone looking to steal their treasure and the legend grew up from there.” Ryan sipped his tea.

“And that’s all there is to it?” Ryan asked thickly. Jo looked at his grandson.

“What’s happened Ryan?” He asked. Ryan took a long time to answer him.

“I’ve been having really strange dreams lately. It’s probably nothing.” He half expected his grandfather to laugh.

“Dreams can be important.” Jo said instead, surprising him.

“Did you know my father?” Ryan asked. Grandpa Jo nearly choked on a mouthful of hot tea.

“Not particularly. He left when you were very young.” He said, coughing. Was it Ryan’s imagination or was his grandfather not meeting his eyes when he spoke? The old man started to put away the few dishes that had been left in the drying rack from the night before.

“I know he did but what was he like when he was here? Was he a sailor?” Yes. Grandpa Jo was definitely not meeting Ryan’s gaze now.

“To be honest I never spoke much with the man. You really should talk to your mother about it.”

“Why? Was he a bad man?” Ryan pressed. Grandpa Jo fumbled with a glass.

“No. No, not a bad man. Maybe, a careless one. A naïve man perhaps but I think he meant well.” Jo’s voice had gone rather quiet. Sad?

“Ryan, your up early!” His mother said brightly as she entered the kitchen, carrying a sleepy looking Tyler on her hip.

“The kettle has just been boiled if you would like some tea Alice dear.” Grandpa Jo said. Ryan looked down into his own cup, thinking about everything Jo had said. He wanted more information but Alice had never shown any interest in talking about Ryan’s father.

“Chilly morning, how about we cook some porridge?” She said. The family bustled about to make breakfast. Whilst Alice and Jo cleaned up the boys went to get dressed. Ryan hesitated only briefly before slotting his two blades into his boots, one on each side. His boots were bulky enough and his pants long enough to disguise the scabbards. Afterwards, Ryan walked his little brother down the road to preschool. The fog had lifted a little but the air was still dense and heavy. By the time he had said goodbye and walked the road home, his hair was a wet mop on his head and his clothes were damp. He paused at the front door at the sound of raised voices.

“You need to talk to him. This isn’t a conversation that can wait any longer.” Jo was saying. Ryan was stunned by the cold seriousness of the tone.

“There is nothing to be said! Maybe it would be best if Ryan left early to his cousin’s. He could leave on the midday ferry and be there by this afternoon.” Ryan frowned at his mother’s sharp reply.

“And leave Tyler behind? You know Ryan wouldn’t do that. Why can’t we just tell him a little? What harm would it do?”

“Because we promised when we brought him back to this damn island that we would keep him safe!” Alice snapped.

“He’s having nightmares Alice.” Jo said.

“He nearly drowned! I would be shocked if he wasn’t! He just needs to be away from this place for a while, that’s all.”

“And what if he gets sick again?” Ryan frowned. Sick? What the heck were they talking about?! He felt confused and angry. His mother couldn’t just send him away!

“He won’t.” Alice said, though she sounded unsure.

Ryan lingered on the front door step, his hand hovering over the door knob. Should he barge in, demand answers? If he had heard this conversation a week ago would he have been so spooked?

Probably not. He needed some time to process everything.

Ryan turned back to the road and decided to go to the shops. He shoved his cold hands into the pockets of his jacket and plodded on, the gravel crunching under his boots. Mr Bentley was outside his shop carrying a crate of oranges.

“I’ll get the door for you.” Ryan offered. Mr Bentley flashed him a toothy smile.

“Thanks very much.” Ryan pulled the door to the shop open and stood aside to let the older man enter. He followed him in and breathed in the smell of fresh fruit.

“Fresh off the dock this morning. The shops a bit of a mess I’m afraid but feel free to take a look around. Mrs Bentley has come down with a nasty cold and hasn’t been able to help me move the stock.” The man heaved the crate over to an empty spot and set it down with a groan.

“Can I help? To be honest, I could really use the distraction right now.” Ryan asked. Mr Bentley raised a particularly bushy eyebrow.

“Well I’m not going to say no to an extra pair of hands. It’s pretty simple. The boxes are laid out in front of the shelves they are supposed to be unpacked onto. Just take a box cutter and have at it. Watch the blade, its sharp.” He said, handing Ryan the box cutter knife. Mr Bentley had the radio playing in the background. He turned it up a little so they could both hear it as they worked. Ryan cut open a box and unpacked the cans of mixed beans onto the shelf. It was strange mediative in its repetitive motions. It gave him time to think. He turned everything over in his mind.

He wanted to be convinced that the dreams were just dreams, that maybe he had just banged his foot onto something the night before to cause the scratches. Except, banging his foot on the round wooden bedpost would have bruised his foot, not scraped it. But the alternative was just too crazy to consider.

Ryan listened vaguely to the news. There was a soccer final coming up. Some new age band had released a new album. Ryan didn’t catch the name. There was also a new scandal as another famous sportsman apparently got into a fight with a rival player in the foyer of a restaurant the night before. Ryan let the babble relax him. An old song from the 80s came on and Mr Bentley whistled along jovially. Cans of corn, peas, packets of nuts, bags of chips, containers of salt and pepper and small bags of flour, Ryan hadn’t realised just how much he had unpacked until Mr Bentley tapped him on the shoulder.

“Quite the firecracker you are. I wouldn’t have gotten half this much stock put away on my own! How’s about we stop for a break and have some lunch?” Ryan nodded and stood up straight, feeling his back pop in a few places. He followed Mr Bentley to the back room, glancing out the door.

“That fog it getting thick again.” The old man commented with a groan. Ryan looked outside at the swirling grey fog and felt a deep sense of apprehension. They ate sandwiches and hot chocolate to chase the chill from the room. Mr Bentley eyed him very curiously. He made small talk but could get very little out of the young teenager. He wasn’t used to seeing Ryan so downcast but conceded that there was only so much prodding he could do. Perhaps he could ask Jo next time he saw the man…

Ryan went back to unpacking the few remaining boxes. The bell above the door tinkled but Ryan didn’t bother to turn about. He was straightening the cans of soup on the shelf, turning the labels to face the front. He didn’t hear the sound of shoes on the tiled floor, but he froze when something cold touched the back of his neck.

“You took off the necklace I gave you. Is this your final answer?” Ryan didn’t even breathe. He knew that voice was straight from his nightmares.

“Will you come with me now?” The… man? Creature? Asked.

“Stay the hell away from me.” Ryan rasped.

“Did you say something there Ryan?” Mr Bentley stuck his head around the corner to peer down Ryan’s aisle. Ryan spun around.

He was alone in the aisle. He looked around but there was no one else in the shop. He glanced at the door. The little brass bell at the top of the wooden frame was still swaying slightly. Outside the fog as still as thick and menacing as ever. He glanced down and at his feet were a few wet footprints.

“I think I should go.” It took a few tried to get the sentence out. Mr Bentley frowned.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Ryan nodded woodenly.

“Yeah. I need to get home. The fog might get worse.” He handed Mr Bentley back his box cutter.

“Well… alrighty then. Stay on the road and don’t forget to holler if you need anything. Thanks again for all your help.” The man eyed him with concern but Ryan only nodded and hurried off into the fog. Yes, that boy was certainly acting very strange.

\--

Ryan practically slammed the front door behind him when he got to his house. He was surprised when Alice came dashing into the hallway. Her face fell slightly at the sight of him. Ryan frowned.

“Mum?”

“Have you seen your brother?” Alice asked, rushing forward. Grandpa Jo came down the corridor after her, wearing his wet clothes and gumboots.

“Umm, no. I was at Mr Bentley’s shop helping him unpack his delivery today. Why?” He became increasing nervous at the sight of her tight worried face.

“Debbie offered to walk Tyler home this afternoon. Jo went to meet them but Tyler ran off into the fog. He said he could hear you calling him.” Ryan stared up at his mother.

“What? When was that?” He asked. He pulled open the door again and both Jo and Alice followed him out.

“About fifteen minutes ago. Debbie stayed at the school to look for him there. I thought he might have come back here.” Grandpa Jo said. It was truly shocking to see such worry on the man’s boyish face.

“He can’t have gone far, which way?” Ryan called. He was already jogging in the direction of Tyler’s preschool. Alice and Jo jogged after him.

“Tyler?”

“Tyler!? Come out little man.”

“Little Lemur, where are you?”

“Tyler?”

Their voices carried strangely in the swirling immense fog. They called and called. Debbie came running out of the shadows towards them, her eyes wide with worry.

“I’ve looked everywhere. He isn’t in the school. Where could he have gone?” She asked tremulously.

“What’s going on?” Trent and his father had heard the yelling and had come down the street towards them.

“Trent!” Alice rushed forward, grabbing him by the arm.

“It’s Tyler, he’s run off somewhere. You haven’t seen him, have you?” Trent and his father shook their heads.

“This isn’t like him!” Alice’s voice was thick with tears.

“We’ll help you look.” Trent said.

“I’ll take the delivery van and scout the road. He may have just got turned around in the fog.” Trent’s father said. He waved and jogged back the way he had come. In the distance Ryan heard the engine start and saw the gold headlights flick on.

“Tyler?”

“Tyler, where are you?”

Just know that what happens next will be entirely your fault.

A single thought pierced Ryan’s mind.

Just one. He turned from the others and began running.

“Ryan?”

“Ryan, buddy, where are you going!?” He heard Trent yell after him. Ryan shook his head to get his wet hair out of his face. The air was so thick and cold it burned to breathe it in. He ran for Point Hut. The same place where he had found the unconscious man in the surf, the place where Ryan had been given that damn necklace. Distantly he was aware of Trent running along side him. Ryan left the road, his boots slipping in the wet grass. He righted himself and made for the that place in the rocks. He could hear the dull roar of the ocean. There was an ice-cold gust of wind and for just one moment, the fog parted.

“Tyler!” Ryan screamed. His little brother was standing on the edge of the black rocks, his little fire engine jacket flapping in the wind. He appeared to be bending over, as though he were talking to someone in the water.

“Tyler come here!” Trent shouted. Both teens were running flat out now towards the edge. Behind them was the voices of the adults as they came after them. There was a strange moment were the world seemed to slow.

Then, Tyler pitched forward, over the rocks and into the sea.

“Tyler!” Alice screamed. Ryan didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even slow down. He got to the edge and jumped.

The sea water smashed into him, cold and rough. He surfaced and spun.

“Tyler?!” He roared. Salt water got into his ears and stung his eyes.

“Rye!” A terrified cough that could only be his brother. Ryan struck up hard, kicking. His boots and jeans weighed him down. He hadn’t taken the time to remove them before diving in. He could make out his little brother. Tyler was paddling as best he could to stay afloat in the choppy water. Ryan swam forward. He would not loose Tyler.

Ryan grabbed hold of him by the waist. His little brother coughed and spluttered.

“Hold onto me.” Ryan shouted. Tyler’s small hands wrapped around his neck. Ryan swam back for the rock shelf. Water splashed over their heads. It was very slow going, his little brother was little more than dead weight. Alice was frantic. She got down on her knees to grab hold of Tyler as they got close.

“Take him.” Ryan spluttered, desperately trying to tread water with his brother’s added mass.

“Rye” Tyler wailed. He wasn’t letting go of Ryan’s shirt. Alice, Debbie and Trent grabbed at them. They were pulled onto a low shelf.

“Tyler why?” Alice sobbed, finally pulling the crying boy into her arms.

“He told me to come.” Tyler wailed. Ryan was still coughing up the sea water he had swallowed. He was gasping for breath. His legs were still being tugged by the dark churning water as he sat on the rocky shelf chasing oxygen.

“Who told you to come darling?” Alice asked. Tyler shook his head, sobbing. Ryan winced in pain. Something silver flashed in the water. He looked up, squinting.

“Mum-” Something grabbed hold of Ryan’s ankle and tugged hard. With a yelp he was wrenched back into deeper water. His back and arms scrapped the rocks. His head smacked hard against the shelf. He vaguely heard several screams and shouts as he was fast pulled out into the ocean. His last view of the shore was his little brother’s tears and his mother’s terrified face before the waves swallowed him whole.

\--

END

\--


	6. Sea Monsters

\--

Chapter Six  
Sea Monsters

\--

Pain. That was all that registered in Ryan’s brain. The sharp cutting pain around his neck, the aching of his lungs and the dancing strobe lights that winked behind his eyes were all completely disorienting. He became distantly aware that he was breathing.

Somehow.

He was still underwater. He must have blacked out because when he opened his eyes he didn’t see the shore anywhere. In fact, he couldn’t see any solid object of any kind. No rocks or the ocean floor.

Just… blueness.

He was still being pulled along by his ankle. There was something tight and thick around his throat and as he was pulled deeper he became somehow aware that it was the contraption around his neck that was both causing him pain and allowing him to breathe. He felt dizzy and sick. The world was a deep blue around him, the water cold. 

He turned his head very slowly. There was a sluggish trail of brown in the water. Blood. With a great effort he reached up and touched the back of his head. Pain flared so bright he may have yelled if he had been able.

He looked down. He was being pulled down and buffeted by the water. A powerful silver tail was in front of him. A clawed hand was wrapped painfully tight around his ankle. Ryan had a brief impression of cold dead eyes staring back at him before he blacked out again.

Ryan wasn’t sure of just how long he had been unconscious. The act of waking in itself felt like a milestone. He blinked sluggishly. The first thing he was able to note was that he wasn’t moving anymore. Or at least, he wasn’t being pulled. His shirt was gone and he was wrapping in what looked and felt like, like thick strands of seaweed, anchoring him to the seafloor. He was in a cavern. It was dark and the absolute silence of the place made Ryan deeply uncomfortable.

He shifted. He could feel that something had been wrapped around his head. His arms had been wrapped too, covering the cuts and scraps from the rocky shelf he had been dragged from. His pants were ripped and his boot were exceptionally heavy. The blow to his head must have been bad because even now, he felt dizzy and a little nauseous. He couldn’t quite process the absurdity of the situation.

He was underwater. And he wasn’t drowning.

It took awhile for him to wiggle one arm free of the thick kelp that wrapped his body. He twisted, reaching for one of his knives. Movement in the corner of his eyes made him freeze.

“You’re awake. That’s good. I’m afraid my temper got the better of me.” It was him. This was the first time Ryan had been able to get a full look at the creature. It was like something out of a children’s fairy tale. Or nightmare. He was a classic example of a mermaid.

Only… his fingertips had long claws. Only… his teeth were a little to long. Only… his eyes were like a dead fish, cloudy and emotionless.

The creatures face was almost eleven with sharp high cheekbones, silver hair and eyebrows. The hair was long, floating with an ethereal quality in the water. He had pale skin like Ryan had never seen on a living human being. His lips were petite like his nose and he would have looked pretty if not for the mouth of sharp teeth and those dead look eyes. His shoulders, arm and chest were all powerfully built. He was all muscle and lean. Lastly was the tail.

It too was both fantastic and twisted. It was covered in a shiny mix of silver and white scales. It was long and massive with several long spikes. The needle like fins at the end of the tail looked truly dangerous. The merman swam smoothly in water. Just one powerful flick of the creature’s tail and it had covered the distance of the small cavern. Ryan opened his mouth to speak and was surprised when words came out instead of just bubbles.

“Who are you?” The words sounded odd to Ryan’s own ears. He had an odd feeling that the collar had been speech possible. He didn’t know how and at this point, his head hurt too much to care.

“I am called Firth though you will not be addressing me as such.” The creature tipped his head to one side and Ryan felt the kelp loosen. He wiggled free.

“I have brought you to one of the outer caverns of my home.

“And where is… home for you exactly?” Ryan asked. His body felt strangely weightless in the water. With only a light paddling of his legs he was about to stay upright and buoyant. The creature smirked unkindly, showing far too many teeth.

“Home. The place where your wretched father trapped us. The islands.” The merman hissed. Ryan tried to shake his head but the action only made him feel sick so he soon stopped.

“My father is a banker in California. I don’t know him and neither do you.” Ryan said in what he hoped was a calm, reasonable voice. He thought he was doing quite well considering the concussion and over welling desire to scream like he was being murdered. The merman seemed to sway in the gentle current.

“Look much like your father, do you?” It asked snidely.

“Of course, I do!” Ryan barked and then… hesitated.

That…

That wasn’t entirely true. From the few photos he had of his father, the man was fat, balding and pale with thin blonde hair. Ryan didn’t have blonde hair. He didn’t have the man’s eyes. Or face, or body type. He had also never been pale and had never gotten a sunburn.

“Really?” The disgust and disbelieve was thick in Firth’s voice. Ryan swallowed heavily. 

“Even if, which I do, I don’t know him, I’ve never known him! Why am I here?” Ryan said, his voice rising to a near shout. His own voice echoed strangely in the water. The merman stared at him for a long time.

“It doesn’t matter if you know your father well or not. He thought, by sending you away, that he could trick us and spare you the same fate. He was wrong, of course. You are born of these islands and you cannot leave them. You are trapped to the land here just as we are trapped to the see.” This story trickled into his mind, uncomfortably familiar.

“You’re talking about… the war between the pirates and the sea creatures? That was… well over a hundred years ago though wasn’t it?” Ryan asked. Firth smiled and it set his hair standing on end.

“Has it only? It feels like a thousand.” The merman spat. Ryan stared without understanding. This made even less sense, if that was possible. His father was not hundreds of years old! Even if he was a pirate the man was still human!

“I don’t expect you to understand. Your ludicrous whore of a mother thought she could keep you safe by handing you off, thought I wouldn’t find out, wouldn’t find you just because you were living under someone else’s roof.” Ryan was numb with a mixture of shock, rage and fear. There was a faint ringing in his ears. His head throbbed and even in the cold water, his cheeks were hot.

“Don’t you ever speak that way about my mother.” Ryan snarled. The merman laughed. The sound was like broken glass rubbing together.

“I’ve never done anything to you or your kind and you tried to kill my brother!” Ryan shouted.

“I warned you what would happen if you did not come on your own.” The creature said as though the matter was a simple one. Ryan gritted his teeth.

“My brother could have drowned!” He shouted.

“He would not have had to be in the ocean at all if you had obeyed me the first time.” Ryan wasn’t one for swearing. Usually. Alice had always raised him better. But this seemed like more than an appropriate time.

“Fuck you!” Ryan screamed. He swung his fist back to punch. But of course, punching underwater was not then same as punching in air. The creature laughed, grabbing Ryan’s arm and yanking him in close.

“Were you going to hit me pet?”

“I am not your pet.” Ryan snarled.

“Oh, but you are now and you won’t have much of a choice, in more ways that one.” The merman flashed long sharp teeth. Ryan paled.

“What do you mean by that?” He croaked. He flinched as the creature ran one long clawed finger over the tight collar around Ryan’s neck. It prickled against his skin, almost as though it were alive.

“This collar has many functions. Its magic allows you to breathe in water and be unharmed by the deep sea’s pressure but it also connects you to me. Whilst you have it on I will know where you are but most importantly, it will influence what you feel. You can hate and curse me out all you like but soon you will crave my presence. You will want me close, want my touch and company. I don’t doubt that you will try to fight it. From what I understand some humans can tell when the magic changes them, like a medication. The change will happen regardless.” Ryan was staring up at him, completely still. There was a look of abject terror and revulsion on his face.

“You can, of course, find a way to take the collar off. Given where you are, you will drown or be crushed to death almost instantly but that is a choice.” Ryan opened his mouth but nothing came out but a few bubbles. The merman smirked.

“There is a silver lining. If you behave, if you submit and show that you understand your place then perhaps after a time I will allow you to visit your family.” He added smugly.

“Why?” Ryan whispered.

“Because a well-behaved pet deserves the occasional treat. This is your world now Ryan.” The merman shoved him away, finally releasing his now bruised arm.

“I suggest you get used to it.”

\--

Ryan was left alone in the cavern. He tried not to glance down at the ugly purple bruise that now adorned his arm. His head was still reeling and he wasn’t sure if that was still from the concussion or the sheer amount of information that had been dumped on him.

One implication had stuck out with him. His mother kept him safe by handing him off to someone else… Did that mean Alice wasn’t his mother? Were any of his family really his family!? His eyes stung but he couldn’t cry underwater. Confusion, pain, misery and fear all swirled in a sickening concoction deep in his guts. Something big moved in the corner of his vision.

It was another merman. Much older then Firth, this merman had aged features, wrinkles and less muscle tone. There were scales missing from his tail. Other scales were croaked or cracked as though he had been in a hard fight a long time ago. His hair was short and more white then silver.

“Don’t be afraid. I am called Den. I have come to move you to your new quarters and treat your wounds.” The man named Den had a much deeper, quieter voice. Ryan, who didn’t particularly want to float in a massive dark cave anymore, swam weakly after the merman. Den was hardly moving his powerful tail, just drifting as Ryan struggled to keep up with his heavy boots. The passageways were everywhere, all dark, murky and disorienting. With almost no light and no pressure, Ryan couldn’t tell if they were swimming up or down. Slowly, the corridors they swam through became less hard jagged rock and more smooth carved walls. Still round, the passageways were now lit with softly moving plants that glowed in hues of pale gold and lime green.

With their light, Ryan could see shells in hues or purple, rose and white spangling the rounded floor. School of small fish scattered as they swam by, darting away into the plants or cracks in the rocks. The labyrinth would have been beautiful if Ryan had been in a state of mind to notice.

Finally, they swam upwards and he could see light above them. The water burst as they emerged into a low ceilings room of smooth polished stone. Ryan dragged himself out of the pool, arms shacking violently. The horrifying change from almost weightlessness to above water gravity, added to the head injury and trauma, Ryan stomach finally gave out and he vomited nosily.

He continued to vomit until there was nothing but bile. Lights twinkling painfully behind his eyes, he slumped over sideways, shacking from head to toe and still gagging. He heard words that could have been a curse in a language he couldn’t understand. He nearly screamed as he was quickly picked up suddenly from the ground, head pounding.

“Hang on, little one.” The old man grumbled. He was laid down on something soft and warm. With a flash of panic, he shoved the hands away as they started to undo his boots.

“No!” Ryan yelled. Den stared at him.

“I can do it.” Ryan spluttered. He wasn’t sure he could though. He tried to bend down to undo the laces and his stomach threatened to contract. With cold, wet fingers he struggled with the laces until they finally came undone. It was hard work getting his feet free of the saturated heavy leather.

Mercifully, Den had walked over to a table in the corner and was busing himself with the contents of several delicate bottles. Ryan hadn’t seen the merman transform his massive scared tail into legs but the old man was now fully human looking with the exception of the unearthly pale silver skin tone. Ryan shoved his boots away and quickly stripped his clothes with the exception of his boxers, shoving them onto the boots to block any view of the sheathed blades.

When he looked up, the room spun hideously. With a groan, Ryan collapsed back onto the soft… whatever the hell it was. Den came over.

“Onto your side.” The man grunted, helping him roll.

“Put this under your tongue.” The creature said. Ryan opened his mouth and something solid and faintly sweet was placed in his mouth. He rolled it under his tongue. It tingled weirdly, like having pins and needles in his gums. The tingling spread through his skull, down the back of his neck and through his limbs. He closed his eyes with a weak groan.

Hands carefully unwrapped each wound, the bandages odd and slimy. The various cuts and scratches were painted with what smelt like sour oranges before each arm and his head were carefully wrapped in blissfully dry wrappings. A blanket was thrown over him and tucked in. Den was sure the boy was asleep before he even finished the job.

The old merman became aware of the presence of his king. He didn’t bother to bow. He was to old for that shit. Instead, he gave a brief incline of his head as Firth walked in. The king was clearly ruffled. He shot the sleeping boy a glance.

“How is he?” Firth asked in mermish. Den snorted.

“If you wanted him dead you could have given him the kindness of slitting his throat back on the island. At least his family would have something to burry.” Den sniped as he packed away his supplies back into their bottles. Firth tensed angrily.

“It was my right to bring him back here. He must pay for the crimes of his people.” Firth snarled. Den looked at him. The silence was heavy. The distant roar of the ocean was all around the chamber.

“The crimes of his people…” Den said slowly.

“I’m old Firth. I’m old and I’m fucking tired but none of that matters because thanks to your war we are all stuck here, unable to move on.”

“My war!?” Firth roared and Den had to drag his king out into the corridor to prevent waking the boy. Centuries ago Den could have been executed for treating his king in such a way but to much had happened.

“Yes, your war! It’s done! It’s over! Over for everyone but you!” Den straightened himself to his full height, feeling the old scar on his hip stretch.

“You won’t let it go. You won’t let yourself heal. That boy angers you not because he is like his father, but because he is not. You can’t accept that the rest of the world has moved on and we have not.” Den said. Firth was shaking with his fury.

“And whose fault is that!?” The king snarled. Den shook his head.

“Not that boy’s. Keep him if you wish. I know damn well you never listen to what anyone has to say anymore but mark my words, his being here will only worsen the curse. If you keep that boy, there will be repercussions.” Den turned.

“How dare you, do not walk away from me!” Firth charged after him. Den spun, his eyes flashing.

“And what will you do, my king, kill me? I wish you could, by the gods how I would greet death!” The two mermen stood for a long tense, angry moment. Finally, both figures seemed to crumple inwards.

“Forgive me, my king.” Den murmured. Firth only shook his head, expression pained.

“There is nothing to be forgiven old friend.” Firth rasped.

“I can’t let him go. I just can’t. Not after everything they have done to us.” The king added. Den shrugged.

“So be it.” Den walked away, trying to ignore the pain he felt every time he saw the once powerful king, now so lost and filled with unsealing hatred. He honestly didn’t know how this curse would ever be lifted.

\--

Ryan had the faintest impression of raised voices, then blissful silence. He drifted in and out of sleep. He could not really tell what time of the day it was as the soft blue and gold light of the plants in this chamber shone anyway. He was to weak and sore to move, his muscles inflexible and his cuts aching. The headache had lessened a little. Den had left a tray of dishes on a small sculptured table. Ryan didn’t try to sit up. He just dozed, allowing his mind to slip in and out of consciousness. In small occasions he could swear that Firth was standing close but he could never be sure if that was just another figment of his mind.

Thirst and hunger finally encouraged Ryan to sit up. He went slow. As he gingerly rubbed his eyes and flexed his fingers, he was able to take a proper look around. For all its strangeness, the room was beautiful. Its first and most obvious feature, was that like the underwater tunnels, it was curved. There were no had corners anywhere, the ceiling domed and curved down meet to smooth floor. The polished rock was slate grey in colour but flecked all over with different kinds of crushed colourful shells.

Most stunning of all was that one side of the dome was completely see-through. The deep ocean was his new bedroom window. It was an endless stretch of deep blue. Huge thick kelp swayed outside the structure. He could see stony unwater vents of bubbling hot gases. These vents were covered with life. Glowing plants, enormous spiny starfish, writhing schools of silver fish and stripped crabs.

It truly was like magic.

The stone was cold under his bare feet as he stood. There was an oddly weaved round mat in the centre of the floor. The furniture was all thick limbed and smooth. A sort of robe had been draped over a chair by the table. He pulled it on. It was a bit long but covered him warmly. He stretched slowly, some his joints popping after so long without movement. He poured himself a glass of water. As soon as it touched his cracked lips he realized just how painfully thirsty he had been. He drank down three glasses before exploring the food.

This he was deeply dubious of. He lifted the lid of the two plates. There were several neatly sliced meats on a bed of thin slippery looking seaweed. The other plate had shredded greenery and what looked like fish roe. Ryan hesitantly took a piece of the meat and popped in his mouth, recognising it as raw salmon.

Okay.

Sashimi. He had eaten sashimi before. He sat in the chair and pulled the tray closer. He placed the meat on the leaf and even dared to add a little of the seaweed before rolling it up and taking a bite. It really wasn’t that bad. A little chewy but harmless. Catlin adored sushi so every time they went to the mainland she made the boys eat it with her. He was rather glad of that now. Besides, you couldn’t really live on Ryan’s island and not eat seafood. He cleared the tray and drank down the last of the water. Feeling full but still a little fuzzy, he went back to his bed and laid down.

He laid there for a long time, watching the ocean outside his little room. He felt a thick mix of awe and fear as something large ghosted passed in the distance. From the way the thing spread out, its many limbs waving, and came together again, he suspected it was a rather large squid.

His thoughts drifted to his family. He felt confused and miserable. He wondered if his mother was still combing the coastline. He wondered if Trent missed him. He wondered if Jo had been able to get Tyler to sleep with him gone. He wondered… what they told Tyler. Did they think he was dead? How could they not? Unless they knew something about all this. Why hadn’t they told him?

Why hadn’t he asked?

He tossed and turned, becoming entangled in the odd blanket. The collar was tight. He ran his fingers along it. The material was seamless. With a great effort, he curled up, staring miserably out into the vast ocean and sometime later he managed to fall back asleep.

\--

END

\--


	7. The Petrol and the King

\--

Chapter Seven  
The Petrol and the King

\--

Ryan’s dreams weren’t peaceful. He saw the faces of people he knew. Or people he thought he knew…

Like some incredibly far away memory, or memory he only half remembered, the sounds of shouting and the crashing of waves filled his ears. It was a man and a woman. They were arguing, the woman was crying and Ryan was so sure he knew her voice.

“You can’t do this! He’s my baby!” She was screaming. She was almost hysterical, young but frantic with barely contained terror.

“He can’t be anymore! No, listen to me! They will come for me. The only way to stop him from coming for you both as well is to convince them that Ryan is dead.” Ryan was being picked up. He tried to look at the people arguing. He wanted to tell them it was okay, that he was fine.

He wanted to ask them who they were!

The woman’s wailing intensified as Ryan got further away.

“Please don’t take him from me!”

“We will look after him, I promise.” That was Alice’s voice. He was sure. He was positive he knew the other woman as well but from where?

“I will never forgive you for this, any of you!” The woman screamed. Ryan watched with only half formed eyes as his blanket and necklace of a shell was taken from around his tiny neck. A rock was placed inside the blanket, the necklace tying it together. There was a last desperate sob from the woman as the bundle was tossed into the ocean with a condemning heavy splash.

\--

He woke feeling oddly uncomfortable, like he was being watched. A shadow fell over him and he groggily looked up. He yelped. Den stared down at him.

“Get up.” Was all the merman said. Ryan’s first thought was to argue. His second thought was that retaliation probably wasn’t a particularly good idea. So instead he climbed stiffly to his feet and followed the creature. He watched in stunned amazement as part of the solid smooth wall suddenly disappeared, revealing a corridor that was, at least, above water like his room.

“Where are we going?” He asked. Wow his voice was hoarse. The switch from dreams to waking was so quick that he was struggling to remember what he was dreaming about. He felt oddly like it was important but even as he struggled to think about it, the details were fading away like smoke. 

“Did you really think you would be eating every meal in your quarters?” Den grunted without looking back at the boy. Ryan shrugged.

“Dunno. This is my first time being abducted. Sort of new to this whole thing.” He grumbled. Den actually chuckled. He was kind of relieved. It made the other male seem less hostile. Ryan looked out into the deep ocean from the corridor.

“Are all your buildings like this?” he asked, pausing to watch a large school of trout swim by. Den paused.

“Of course. Are yours not the same?” He asked, his tone bored.

“No. Not really. I mean we have glass but our buildings aren’t really…underwater like this.” Ryan murmured, staring. He stopped walking.

“Have you… I mean have any of you had any contact with the outside world?” His question was met with an uncomfortable silence.

“We can take human form for short periods of time though we may never be far from the ocean and we a bound to these islands. I have been too the mainland briefly and your own island. I have seen television, electricity, those ridiculous machines that carry you about. I know people have cell phones though don’t ask me how the bloody things work.” Den said finally.

“Did your people used to travel? Like to other oceans and stuff? I mean, even in a hundred years, so much has changed. It is probably going to be a shock for you.” Ryan said awkwardly. He wondered briefly if he should mention that places like the Great Barrier Reef in Australia that were dying out. Yeah… maybe he wouldn’t mention that part. The merman looked at him and shrugged.

“I assumed there would be more humans, more filth, more waste.” Den grunted.

“Yeah… six billion is more then you might expect though.” This time is was Den’s turn to looked stunned.

“An exaggeration.” He snapped. Ryan looked up at him.

“Not… not really.” They stood in the corridor in silence. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

“Six billion?”

“Yeah… Umm… Sorry?” Ryan winced. He opened his mouth to speak but the older merman turned sharply and began to stride away and he had to jog to catch up. They didn’t say another word to each until they reached another large circular room. There was a massive table and chairs.

“Sit, eat.” Den said gruffly, waving a hand at a bowl that sat on one side. Ryan wanted to apologise again but didn’t really have any idea what he could say. He sat down and pulled the bowl close. He peaked inside, hoping dearly there wouldn’t be whole fish eyes looking back at him. The hot scent of creamy chowder hit his nose and he let out a breath of relief. Crab chowder was an improvement over raw fish.

“Thank you.” Ryan said as he picked up his spoon. Den just grunted. His guard was looking out one of the clear walls into the ocean bed beyond their room. Ryan squinted. Was it his imagination or were there shapes sticking out of the seabed? They looked like the masts of old ships. He ate a few mouthfuls before he finally asked the question he been dying to know the answer to. He thought he could push his luck just a little further.

“Are there other tribes of mer people around the world?” He asked in a would-be casual voice. Den snorted and shot him a look that suggested he wasn’t fooled.

“Of course. There are tribes in the far north and the far south. We prefer the colder deeper waters. We…” The older merman sighed.

“We have not had contact with them from a long time.” He said heavily. Ryan put down his spoon.

“Den, can you please tell me what is happening? Can you me anything about the war or why I’m here. I’m trying to absorb all of this but…” Ryan shook his head.

“This is to much!” He spluttered, waving a hand at the ocean window. Den turned away from the view to look at him.

“How much do you already know?” The man asked finally. This time it was Ryan’s turn to snort.

“About as much as I can from a few chapters of some old kid’s book.” He said and then immediately wished he hadn’t. A look of pain crossed the old man’s features before it was gone seconds later.

“A children’s book… The war that caused the near extinction of my tribe is a children’s book.” Den words were hissed out through sharp teeth. Ryan flinched, wishing very much that he had kept his mouth shut. Den was the only ally he might have and offending the merman was probably a bad idea. Choosing his words carefully, he continued.

“My grandfather also used to tell me stories too. He told me how the islands around here are magic. Pirates controlled most of the waters. They discovered the islands and wanted to use them to hide and smuggle stolen goods. He said they fought with the mermaids who called the islands home and the resulting war wiped out the pirates.” Ryan said, struggling to remember every scrap of the legend he had ever heard. Den just stared at him for awhile and then gave a curt nod.

“That is not… a disgustingly inaccurate account. It isn’t anywhere near complete though. The humans did invade our waters. There are places in this world where creatures of magic can go and be protected however this comes at a cost. These places do not belong to anyone one people and to claim they do is to cause destruction. Mistakes were made. For pride and honour, rubbish that can’t bring back our dead or heal our wounds.” Den’s voice was heavy and deep. Ryan found himself engrossed, the chowder forgotten.

“When the men came with their ships and guns we should have left. The islands would have defended themselves without us. No human could own them or live there. But first blood was drawn and our young prince was injured. Refusing to retreat and ignoring the ancient laws told to us by our forefathers, we stayed and fought for land and waters that was not even rightly ours. Many were killed, human and mermaid.” Ryan swallowed, his eyes tracing for the first time, the ridges and scars that covered the old merman’s torso. That was a particularly deep one that stretched over the hip above the cloth. It looked as though an entire hunk of muscle had been carved out.

“These islands used to be a place of protection. A place where my kin could be safe from humans and their invasion. Now they are our prison. Magic takes no sides, favours no individual. By the time we realized what curse our war had created, it was to late. We were all trapped. The king firmly believed that if we destroyed the last of the pirates, we would be freed. We hunted them all down, every last one but it made no difference. That’s when he started to believe it wasn’t enough. If not the pirates, then their descendants to. Their children, their wives. We hunted them all.” Ryan mouth went completely dry. Horror and dread coiled thickly in his gut.

“But it didn’t help, did it?” Ryan croaked. Den shook his head.

“No. It didn’t. Until we discovered that you were alive, the last living descendant of the last Petrol Captain.” Silence filled the room.

“Is he going to kill me too?” Ryan asked. His hands were shaking. He put them in his lap to hide them.

“I do not know. I would have said yes if you had asked centuries ago. He is not the ruler I once knew. He has lost to much, sent to many of his kin to the depths. He needs to learn to let go.” Den breathed. Ryan lifted his head, suddenly understanding.

“Is that… is that why you told me all of this?” he asked. The merman nodded.

“It is. I have long since been aware that this curse hasn’t dissipated. It didn’t end with the war, or your father’s death but it needs to end. My hope is it will end wit you. One way or another.” Den growled.

“What is he doing in here!?” The voice was like a whip crack. Firth was standing the entrance, pale eyes narrowed. He lips were pulled back like a snarling dog.

“My king.” Was it Ryan’s imagination or was Den’s tone vaguely mocking?

“What is he doing here? Why is he not in his quarters?” Firth spat again, striding forward like an angry serpent. Ryan rose from his chair slowly. Den shrugged one massive shoulder.

“Was I supposed to keep him restrained to his quarters? My apologies my king, I am new to this whole abducting thing.” Ryan’s mouth fell open as he listened to Den parrot back what he himself had said not that long ago. The king looked furious. His pale cheeks were blotchy with rage and those oily dead eyes were slinking around in their sockets.

“What have you been telling him?” The king snarled. The two mermen stood staring each other down for several tense moment.

“Nothing the boy did not know already, give or take a few details.” Den grunted, utterly unfazed by the creature that was becoming less human by the second. Ryan moved behind the other side of the table. It really wasn’t much but Firth seemed to be growing. He filled the whole space, his long fingers hooking into great talons. Scales slid up over his torso making him look far more like some undead demon fish person then anything close to human.

“It is not his place to know!” Firth roared. Ryan tried to square his shoulders.

“You’re going to kill me, I don’t care what you think, I deserve to know why!” Ryan said with as much courage as he could muster. To his credit, his voice only shook a little. Firth’s head swivelled at a grossly unnatural speed to look at him.

“You are alive because I am not done with you. That decision may change.” The king hissed. Throwing caution to the wind, Ryan glared.

“Yes, because killing any and everything had worked so well for you in the past.” He snapped. The mer king let out the oddest sound. It was almost like a roar and the squeal of a dying animal. The hair on the back of Ryan’s arms stood on end.

“What do you know of death!? You are a child!” Firth thundered. Ryan met him like one storm to another.

“That’s exactly my point! I am a child. Just last week I was playing a computer game with my little brother whilst I was eating Doritos and arguing with Trent that DC comics will always be better then Marvel even if they only ever make shitty movies! I am so far removed from your world I may as well be from a different planet! You can’t have it both ways! Either I’m the murderous spawn of a pirate responsible for the death of your people or I’m a regular human kid with lying parents!” Den looked mildly impressed. Whatever Firth had expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

The king opened his mouth and then shut it again. The powerful sense of fear was receding as the merman seemed to shrink again. His jaw tight and his eyes pinched the king finally said;

“Take him back to his quarters. Immediately.” Den bowed to him and then placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan didn’t argue and allowed himself to be escorted from the room. He felt that piercing gaze on his back the entire way. When they finally returned to the round room of Ryan’s, he collapsed down onto the rug.

“Holy crap.” He whizzed. His legs were shaking. Adrenaline was pumping through him like an electrical current.

“I’ll give you one thing kid, you certainly have some stones.” Den chuckled. Ryan groaned.

“Somehow I don’t think that helped him like me over much.” The boy slumped over, putting his head in his hands.

“I dunno. That’s the most emotion I’ve seen him show in a long time.” Den said cheerfully. Ryan shot him a nasty look.

“You are enjoying this.” Ryan accused. Den smirked.

“It’s been a long time kid. I’ll take whatever I can get.” With that, the old merman turned and left Ryan to his thoughts.

He stayed for a long time on the floor. He hadn’t eaten very much and his various bruises and cuts were starting to ache again. He was also slowly becoming aware that he had not had a shower of any kind in a while. His hair felt dry and itchy. His skin still had that sandy salty feel you get after swimming at the beach. He had a vague image in his head of a screaming woman. Den’s story echoed about in his ears as though he were hearing it on his grandfather’s old radio.

He groaned. It was insane. Every last shred of it. The worst part of all, Ryan had no idea what to do. Well… that wasn’t entirely true. He needed to convince Firth that killing him wouldn’t end the curse. However the hell he was going to do that. His fingers drifting up again to the tight collar around his throat.

Had Firth always plan to kill him and just said all that shit about being a pet to mess with him? At the same time Ryan felt an odd pang in his chest. Loss? He had no idea why but a small part of him had begun to think that maybe his father had still been alive. They had certainly talked about him as though he had been alive, like his capture had only been last week.

Ryan could be brave if he just knew that he had a real family out there. Was his birth mother still alive? Did he know her? Something heavy and cold settled in Ryan’s belly. Would Firth go after Alice and Jo for being involved. They had hidden Ryan away, rather successfully for eighteen years. Fear and worry and sadness weighed him down until Ryan laid back on the bed and rolled over.

He spotted his boots and old clothes still tucked in a wet pile under the table. Gingerly he made his way over. He crouched down and paused, listening intently for the sounds of footsteps. It was difficult to hear anything over the odd movement of the ocean all around his prison. He waited but no one came. He took a slow breath as he pulled his sodden boots out. From their depth he drew the two daggers. He unsheathed them and stared down at the blades.

One a petrol

The other, a trident.

He needed answers.

Somehow.

Somehow, he had to find a way to leave this place and get home.

And he was going to get Den to help him.

\--

END

\--


	8. For Truth and Travel

\--

Chapter Eight  
For Truth and Travel

\--

It was a long time before anything moved in his room. Ryan sat on his make shift bed watching the ocean outside his underwater prison. It was desperately beautiful with its deep blues, greys and silvers. The corals that lit his quarters pulses gently at odd intervals. It was utterly quiet with nothing but the muted white noise of the ebbing ocean. Fish swam and from his seat he could almost forget that the odd jutting shapes on the ocean floor were the sunken wrecks of ships. There were probably bodies on those ships, long since stripped of any human remains and left to sink into the sediments as muddied bone. 

Did anyone else remember those people? Did they too have families somewhere out there? 

He shivered. The daggers lay beside him. His mind had been going around in circles for hours. He had to get home but he had long since admitted to himself that he wasn’t going to be able to do it alone. He couldn’t operate any of the doors if one could call them that. If he tried to leave, Firth would know straight away. 

How could he get the collar off? 

Could Den? 

Ryan ran his fingers over the thick collar for what must have been the hundredth time. 

Still smooth. 

Still seamless. 

He sighed. 

His stomach gave a low rumble. He hadn’t been given much of a chance to eat the chowder Den had given him and that was a long time ago. For a teenager used to three square meals a day, that and the combine his aching limbs and anxiety, Ryan was starting to flag. He stretched out his legs, feeling his muscles protesting slightly. He jumped when the wall across from him opened. He shifted, quickly covering the daggers with the blanket.

Firth walked in with a plate in one hand. The king was far removed from the terrifying monster Ryan had glimpsed hours ago. His long silver white hair had been pinned back into a ponytail of neat braids. He was wearing clothing that covered him chest and legs. He looked almost human in a strange fairy tale sort of sense. Ryan didn’t get up. The silence was stretched on for a rather uncomfortable amount of time

“You are hungry.” The king stated factually. Ryan frowned.

“Why would you say that?” He replied, ignoring his stomach’s protests.

“Your collar connects you to me. I can sense your discomfort.” Ryan snorted.

“Poor choice of words.” The boy muttered.

“When can I get a change of clothes, or at least wash? I stink and my clothes are crusty.” Ryan snapped. The king regarded him for a minute.

“You really think it is in your best interest to speak to me with so much disrespect?” The merman growled. The teen glared.

“And you expect me to believe that you would let me go if I was?” He shot back. The king placed the plate down on a nearby table.

“I could throw you in the deepest hole the ocean has and leave you there to be torn about by goblin sharks.” Firth hissed. Ryan stood up, his short temper flaring.

“Then shut up and do it already!” 

Silence as cold and tight as the grave…

“You aren’t afraid of death?” The mer king asked. Ryan shrugged, his stomach in knots.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m thrilled with the idea but fear isn’t going to help me.” Ryan said finally. 

“What are you doing? What does any of this achieve?” He added. The king growled. He turned to look out at the ocean, his shoulders ridged. 

“I’m going to break the curse on my people. I will use you to do it.”

“But you don’t know that killing me wont just condemn your people to extinction.” Ryan said flatly. He sat back down on the bed, staring intently. The taller male flinched. Apparently, he wasn’t made of stone after all. 

“There must be more to the story, another reason for why the curse is still here. Let me go back and-”

“No.” The merman snapped. Was it Ryan’s imagination or had the man stood there this entire time without blinking? The dead fish eyes were narrowed on him, making him feel distinctly uncomfortable. The hair on the backs of his arms rose like they had before. 

“What have you got to lose? After all this are you really going to risk the fate of your clan on a coin toss? I can find out what happened back then.” Ryan urged. First sneered and the exposed teeth looked sharp and angry.

“I know what happened, boy. I was there.” He snarled.

“You know what you saw. You don’t know what happened from the human’s perspective. Wouldn’t you rather know? Wouldn’t you rather be sure? This is my past too. I want to find out why I’m here.” Ryan was sitting so straight his spine felt like it was going to snap. He had to convince him to let him go. Ryan wasn’t lying either. He wanted to know the truth about his past just as badly as Firth did. There was still so much of it that didn’t make any sense. For starters, who and where was his mother? 

“And if you discover that your death would free my people? You expect me to believe that you would willing return?” Firth’s voice was thick with incredulity. Ryan hesitated. 

Well… no. 

He had never been called selfish before but he wasn’t sure he could willingly walk to his own death either. Firth’s expression was one of smug self-satisfaction ad bitterness, as though he had already won.

“Then don’t give me the option. The collar connects me to you. Don’t take it off. Let me go back to my island with it.” He said softly. The smirk fell from the merking’s face, an expression of shock in its place. 

“Separated from me, the collar will drive you mad. It will break down your body and mind the longer you are away from me.” He said slowly. Ryan swallowed, then nodded.

“I guessed as much from what you said the first time.” His voice was a little raspy. Despite his own suggestion, he was scared. He cleared his throat.

“That or you leave me in here to stare at the waves until you come up with something better.” Ryan added. He tried to sound confident but his fingers were white with how tensely he was gripping the blankets. The merking seemed to rock on the balls of his feet for a few moments and Ryan could feeling the first prickles of real hope. 

“Eat your food.” The king said. Ryan’s jaw dropped as the man spun on his heel and marched through the doorway.

“Wait!” Before he had even gotten to his feet, the solid wall was back in the corridor’s place. Ryan bit his lip as he tried not to panic. 

This wasn’t over

He hadn’t said no. He could do this, he just had to be patient. 

\--

Firth didn’t look up from the table in front of him. For decades he had sat at this table, its pearly grey quartz surface reflecting the concern, rage and concentration of his advisers and warriors. This room used to fill with so many of his clansmen that even he had to stand. Now…

“Sire, we have our concerns. Why is the boy here?” Marana steepled her clawed fingers. Den sat on her left. Firth swirled the black liquid inside his glass. The eight sitting across from him all exchanged glances. He had watched their faith in him dwindle over the centuries. He didn’t blame them, couldn’t blame them. 

“Sire?” He looked up. 

“He asked to go back to his people.” He said. There was a derisive snort from Everette. 

“Why is he still alive?” The young merman snapped. His father killed in the earliest years of the confrontation with the pirates, Everette had been born of this world and had never known life outside the islands they were all now bound to. To him, killing humans had been his entire life. He had inherited his father’s position in the war council due to the number of human skulls he had collected rather than any real-life experience or strategic knowledge. 

“Yes, by all means. Let’s just keep killing all of the humans. It has gotten us so far. Shut your mouth boy, before you embarrass your poor mother further.” Den sneered. Everette showed long sharp teeth.

“You were such a renowned warrior. Father used to tell stories of how you would kill five of those disgusting humans at once. Now you skulk around, mending clothing and making human meals. When did you become such a-”

“Silence!” Firth roared. The room went still. 

“Would you kill him, potentially condemn us all?” He asked. No one spoke though Everette looked as though he wished to. 

“The boy wants to return to find out how the humans were affected by the curse, if it can be broken by their side.” Firth said. Marana gave him a questioning look.

“The humans were not affected by the curse.” She said. Several of the others were nodding.

“I’ve never been so sure about that.” Muttered Keelin from the other end of the room. 

“That human is the son of our greatest enemy! He can’t be allowed to just leave!” Everette barked. 

“He is a boy. He was never a part of the war.” Den growled. 

“He is of the islands! He was born on the islands, fathered by the prince’s murderer! That boy should never be allowed to leave without paying for his family’s crimes.” Everette snipes. Several terse whispers and hisses wisped around the room like a light wind. 

“He wants to keep the collar on, even knowing that it will destroy him should he choose to flee.” The king said and the room went quiet. 

“Logically there is little we lose. If he finds answers, though unlikely, it could lead to an end to all this. If he chooses to run, the collar will kill him anyway which may also bring an end to this.” Marana stated. Firth was grateful for her level head, a trait she carried from her mother. The other exchanged looks. The king looked to Den. The old merman shrugged.

“I say send the boy back. He isn’t much good here.” Den grunted. Everette made a noise that was not unlike a hiss but he said nothing. The king nodded. 

“I will give him forty-eight hours. After that, if he does not return on his own, the collar will ensure he does not survive.”

\--

Ryan sprang to his feet as the doorway appeared again. Den walked in, followed by the king. Den was holding a bundle of fabric. Ryan squired his shoulders, preparing for battle. He would make them listen to him even if he had to shout himself deaf. 

“Get changed. Your leaving in an hour.” The king said. Ryan’s mouth dropped open. He wanted to ask what had made him change his mind but the only sound that came from his throat was more of a 

“Huh?” The clothing smacked him in the face.

“Get changed. I have met with my war council. I am giving you two days to ask your questions and then you will return to the same place on the shore where I will collect you.” Firth explained. Ryan’s head was still spinning, not quite able to process the change of events. 

“…Just like that?” When he finally managed to force the words out, they were distinctly disbelieving. 

“Just like that.” Den’s answer was said with a large dose of sarcasm. Ryan stared down at the fabric in his hands. A moment of panic flashed up his spine as he realized just how light and airy the material was. It would be undoubtedly easier to swim in but it would also leave no where to hide the two daggers he still has stashed in the blankets. He couldn’t leave them here. He didn’t know why he couldn’t but he just couldn’t escape the feeling they were important somehow. He also didn’t think either merman would let him keep them if they found out.

“Why should I bother changing? These clothes are already ruined anyway. I may as well just swim back as I am.” Ryan said hesitantly. The king raised one eye brow. 

“You wish to go back to your people looking like a drowning victim?” he asked. Ryan winced. The older merman was giving him a suspicious look. After all, he was the one who had been asking for new clothes. 

“I think it would be less of a shock to my mother to see as she remembered me going in. Its not going to look particularly inconspicuous if I rise up out of the ocean in fairy cloth.” Ryan tried to argue, his cheek turning pink. Den snorted.

“Fae couldn’t weave clothe if their lives depended on it.” The old merman said. Ryan stared.

“…. Okay, I’m just going to file that away in my vault of memories, never to be seen again.” He muttered. Firth sighed.

“Fine. If that is what you wish. Leave your boots though, they are already falling apart.” The king took the bundle of clothe and turned to go.

“Forty-eight hours boy. That is all the time you have to find a way to break the curse. After that, you will return here. I suggest you use your time wisely.” Ryan wanted to argue but he bit his tongue. He didn’t want to take any chances that the king would change his mind and refuse to let him go at all. Best to let sleeping dogs lie. For now.

\--

It was Den who came to get him. With his boots abandoned, Ryan had to awkwardly slid the daggers into his pants, through his shorts and up against his legs. He prayed the old merman wouldn’t notice how stiffly he was walking. 

“Let’s get on then.” Den grunted. Ryan took a deep breath and followed him through the doorway and down into a pool of dark water. The cold hit him first. Not unbearable but complete as he immersed himself. Out of habit he took a deep breath before he went under, then yelped as pain like ripping off a stubborn Band-Aid seared down the sides of his neck. Oxygen rushed in, not through his mouth, but through the newly reformed gills. 

Den, his human form completely replaced by the powerful battle scared tail, waited for him to collect himself. Ryan nodded and they both swam into the tunnels. It was oddly the reverse of the way he had come in. In truth, he remembered very little of that first swim, probably due to the concussion he had at the time. The coral and plant life twinkled as they swam passed. Slowly, around one bend, then another. Left up one tunnel, then right down another. He tried to remember all the twists are turns but it was impossible. Already his muscles were burning with the speed which he tried to swim. The fear of being left behind in these tunnels sent a primal terror through him that he couldn’t untwist.

The tunnel became less smooth, less polished. The coral and weeds grew only in odd tussocks, providing merge splashes of multicoloured light in the dim. The water was definitely colder now, the silence oppressive. Ryan hissed as a jagged rock, only half seen in the gloom scratched his ankle as he kicked his feet. Den’s pale tail was only just visible ahead and Ryan tried to go faster. 

Around him, things moved. Fish, he hoped. Fish could be long… and finless. An eel turned itself right way up from where it dangled from the rocky ceiling. Ryan kicked a little faster. The caves started to spread out, the light dying away to nothingness. As the ocean spread out beside and around, the current got rougher. The water pushed and pulled him. 

Upwards. They were definitely swimming upwards. It was slow going but the water was starting to appear more blue then black. A school of fish swam passed them. When Ryan looked down, all he could see was insubstantial blackness. There was no trace of the rock sculptures and tunnels they had emerged from. There was light up above. Finally having a proper direction to head, Ryan swam with a desperation he hadn’t felt since he had seen his brother fall into the ocean. 

When his head broke the surface, he was almost immediately bunked back under by the rough surf. Spluttering, he felt a large hand on his shoulder as he was pulled around. They swam parallel to the ocean floor, just under the crashing waves. They had the currents on their side now and Ryan didn’t have to paddle so hard as he was pulled along towards land. 

He had never felt such relief at the sight of those jagged rocks and bleak coast line. He had never appreciated the matted reedy grasses so much as when he pulled himself bodily from the water. He had never desperate wanted the fresh air of salt and damp wood so badly as he did now. He coughed and spluttered, his muscles fiery useless noodles as he rolled onto his back. The clouds were a depressing grey but Ryan was over joyed to see them. 

“Remember kid, forty-eight hours. Don’t make us come looking for you.” Den growled. Ryan nodded, still panting, still shaking. The waves pounded against the rock shelf. He didn’t hear Den go but knew without looking that the merman was gone. Distantly he could hear sea birds. With a pained groan, Ryan rolled over and got to his feet. Small stones and sharp grasses stabbed at his bare feet as he made his way back down the slope. He wondered just how long he had been gone. 

Maybe two days? Three?

Judging by the partly hidden sun it was afternoon. He saw no one on his way back to his house. That surprised him a little. Where was everyone? Why weren’t there parties of people looking for him?

The sight of his house made his throat tighten. He really hadn’t thought he was ever going to see it again. Stiffly he walked down the mossy cobblestone path. A wind had picked up and he raised his hand to knock. 

The door swung violently open. Alice, white as chalk, stood in the doorway. Her usually neat hair was unkept and there were heavy dark shadows under her eyes.

“Ryan?” Her voice was so strange. It shook slightly and squeaked in the middle.

“Hi.” He rasped. He was wrenched inside and crushed in bone cracking embrace. Alice’s grip was gorilla like as she hugged her son. Her face buried in his hair. Moment later a second pair of strong arms wrapped around him and he heard Grandpa Jo mutter;

“Thank God.” Tear bite at the corners of Ryan’s eyes. He didn’t try to pull away. Finally, it was his grand father who cleared a suspiciously blocked throat.

“Alice, let him get cleaned up, his freezing.” Alice hovered nervously as Jo took the teen to the bathroom. She peered anxious around the corner after to them.

“Do you have everything?” She asked for what was about seventh time. She seemed to think that if she took her eyes off her son, he would disappear in a shower fairy dust. 

“He’s fine dear. Why don’t you go make some tea for us all?” Grandpa Jo suggested. Alice rocked uncertainly on her heels for a moment before reluctantly retreating to the kitchen. 

“Where’s Tyler?” Ryan asked as he was helped out of his crusty and tattered shirt. 

“He’s on the mainland with your cousins.” Jo folded the shirt and place on top of the sink. 

“How is he?” Ryan croaked. 

“Hop in the shower and we can have a sit down and a talk once you’ve cleaned up. I’ll be right outside if you need me.” It was childish but Ryan didn’t want the old man to leave. He was home and he desperately wanted his family. 

But he also stunk and ached all over. His desire to be clean finally won over his clinginess and he nodded. He checked the door twice before he removed the two daggers and stuffed them under his tattered shirt in the sink. It took a bit to get the shower nobs to turn. The warm water was bliss. He lathered himself, ignoring the stinging cuts and scrapes. He scrubbed almost fiercely. He spent a long time under the shower’s hot spray until the water started to go cold. Skin red, Ryan climbed out and dried off. He pulled on a pair of thread bare sweat pants and shirt. It was so good to be back in familiar dry clothes. He never realized he would miss so much about his life until he had faced the threat of loosing all of it. 

Still. He missed Tyler painfully. His little brother must be so scared and miserable. He had never been without Ryan and his aunt had never been the patient woman when it came to crying toddlers. Well, other people’s crying toddlers. Her own children could do no wrong even as they were stealing from a guest’s wallet as she defended them… The image of Tyler, curled up and crying in a strange house without him made Ryan want to cry himself. 

He had to fix this. He wasn’t sure how but he had to find a way. 

He tiptoed to his room, daggers tucked under one arm. The sight of his patchwork quilt, his laptop, his rug, all desperately familiar and welcome. He shoved the daggers back under the bed in a spare shoe box and paused. He looked down at his quilt. He had memories of this quilt for as long as he could remember. He dragged his fingers over the little squares. An apple, an anchor and pirate ship were just a few of the pictures. Frowning, he yanked on the quilt, looking over the little pictures with more attention. At the bottom of the quilt was a trident. And a petrel. 

Right.

Tucking the quilt under his arms he marched back into the kitchen. His mother and grandfather turned around.

“Ryan-” She paused, looking at the quilt in his arms and the hard expression on his face. Mugs of tea in hand, Grandpa Jo ushered them over to the table. Outside, the grey clouds had turned menacing and the first splatters of rain could be heard on the roof. 

“We need to talk.” Ryan said. Neither adult looked particularly comfortable.

“You know about it all don’t you? About the thing that took me? Why it took me?” Alice and Jo exchanged troubled looks. Alice’s eyes were red. They both nodded.

“Tell me.” he urged.

“The story is a sad one from start to finish I’m afraid.” Jo murmured. He suddenly looked his age. The boyish grin was gone and it made his wrinkles look so much more deeply set. 

“Start from the beginning.”

\--

END

\--


	9. Fleeing The Ocean

\--

Chapter Nine  
Fleeing the Ocean

\--

“We can only tell you what we know. This war was supposedly almost two hundred years ago. We were told many legends of this area in my navy years. The story of pirates was a favourite of the local sailors and fishermen so I learnt it well.” Ryan’s grandfather handed him the mug of tea. Ryan clung to it tight, absorbing the heat from the patterned ceramic. He made a ‘go on’ motion.

“Well I trust you know the start of the story.” Ryan frowned but gave a little nod.

“I may have taken a peak at the page you were up to in that book of yours. I’ll get to that in a minute. After the war there were a small handful of surviving pirates. They, like the mermen were trapped by the curse of the islands, never aging, never dying but unable to leave the islands and sea they had fought to own. Your father, the captain of the Petrol fled from island to island, always staying one jump ahead of the merman king who pursued him.” Jo sat back in his chair, into a pose that Ryan had long come to recognise as the man’s storytelling posture.

“But any man can become lonely after spending so many decades on the run and after a long time he started to drift closer and closer to civilisation. In the 1980s this island became inhabited with a large enough population to be considered a town. In that town was a young woman. She was pretty, naive and a little loose between the ears. She had a pa who was a sailor who enjoyed far too much drink and a ma who had long since turned off any response that could be called emotional. One day, this beautiful young lady met a stranger at the docks and fell in love.” Ryan frowned. Water from the tap was dripping steadily into the sink. Alice was still staring at her clasped hands.

“The man said they could not spend their lives together as he couldn’t stay in one place. The girl was smitten with him though and either couldn’t or wouldn’t hear sense from anyone. Despite the risks, he can back to her, time and time again. Before long she was pregnant with his child. It is here that things become more tangled. The merman king was catching up and had discovered the pirate returning to the same place every time. The king guessed that he had taken a lover and was determined to kill them both in hopes of ending the curse.”

The edge of the chair was cutting into the backs of Ryan’s legs as he sat rigidly in place. Alice sipped her tea. Some of it spilt over the sides of the cup. Her hands were shaking.

“The pregnancy was difficult. She had a sister who helped to hide the pregnancy for as long as possible but there is only so long that could go on. When her pa found out, he was furious. Of course, by then she was showing and there wasn’t much to be done but have the child. The baby was born, a healthy little boy and an imagine of his father. Still a working sailor myself back then, I knew her pa and heard from him how she had given birth to a bastard child.”

“For the most part the baby was an ordinary healthy boy except for when the family took the newborn to the mainland to see a doctor for a check-up. Apparently, he came down with a fever.” Alice coughed into her cup. Ryan glanced over at her. She was glaring rather angrily at the tablecloth as though it had grievously offended her.

“The doctor sent them home. When they brought the child back to the island, he was fine. The baby’s father still came to visit him and began to understand that his worst fears had come to light. His son would be affected by the curse just as he was.”

“He wanted to give the baby a chance. It was certain death for the boy if the mer king found them. So, he made the only decision he could. The plan was well executed. He took the child’s blanket and filled it with the ashes of some dead animal as well as a few of the boy’s things and threw it into the ocean. He gave the baby away to another family on the island, outsiders who had never had a history with the war or its ancestors. He used himself as bait to draw the mer king away and was inevitably captured and executed.”

The rain was thundering down now and the little kitchen was becoming cold. Alice got up to stoke the fire while his grandfather took a long drink of his tea. Ryan had a distinct lump in his throat.

“Of course, the boy’s mother, your mother, didn’t want to give up the child. The loss of her baby drove the poor woman insane. She was never the calm level-headed woman she needed to be but giving away her only baby completely unhinged her. She never recovered and never once admitted to anyone what had really happened or why. She had very few friends with the exception of her young sister and people didn’t ask. Most assumed she had simply lost the baby during childbirth. Alice was still new to the island and the arrival of a new baby to her family was not considered suspicious.”

“What happened to her?” Ryan croaked.

“Her pa died not long after all this, his liver finally gave out. The woman’s mother abandoned her daughters and the island. Haven’t the faintest idea what became of her. Your mother stayed close by though. Though she knew she could never have any kind of relationship with you, she could never leave.” Grandpa Jo murmured.

A conversation from several weeks ago wafter through his mind. Ryan’s mouth had gone completely dry as he finally put the pieces together. Because there was someone on the island that he knew, someone that fit that description, someone who had refused to acknowledge or interact with him for as long as he could remember. He knew who his mother was…

“…she’s not… well she’s not quite all there.” Alice explained softly. Tyler tipped his head curiously.

“Where’s the rest of her?” Tyler giggled. Ryan gave his little brother a fond smile.

“Probably at the bottom of the ocean.” Ryan teased.

“You’re not wrong.” Grandpa Jo said in a strange voice.

Alice watched him tensely as Ryan raised his head to look her in the eye, positive that he was correct in his conclusion.

“It’s Dania isn’t it? Dania is my mother.”

\--

Ryan watched his mother pack in stunned silence.

“What are you doing?” He asked. She flung several shirts into the open suitcase, her eyes fixed on her task. It was like she didn’t even hear him. He tried to grab her arm but she flew passed him into the bathroom, grabbing tooth brushes and toothpaste. She grabbed the tube with such violence that the paste oozed out from beneath the closed lid.

The more she ignored him, the more panicked he became. There had to be more to the story then that! There just had to be! It didn’t explain anything about the curse or how to get to rid of it. Curses could be broken, couldn’t they? That was a thing? At least it was in the story books.

Story book…

Ryan rushed back to his room to find the odd novel he had left on his night stand. It wasn’t there. He shoved the bedcovers back, checked on his desk, behind the bookcase and even got down on his hands and knees to check under the bed. It had gone.

“Where-”

“We’re leaving Ryan. We are getting on a ferry today and going to see your cousins.” His mother snapped, almost most shoving him over as she rushed back passed to seize the contents of his sock draw.

“For how long?” He yelped.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was strangled. He glanced over her shoulder into the open suitcase. All the clothes had been haphazardly shoved inside. Still, he saw no flash of colour from a hard cover book. Ryan followed her back out to the kitchen. His grandfather was sitting at the counter, his face worried.

“Alice, dear, maybe-” But she cut across her father too.

“Are you going to sit there or are you going to help me pack?” She barked. Grandpa Jo seemed to shrink in the chair.

“You have to stop her!” Ryan begged. His grandfather gave him a sad look.

“You don’t know what its been like here without you, kiddo.” He replied, his voice thick. The teen hesitated, his throat closing a little. Then he shook his head.

“At least let me talk to Dania!” Ryan said, heading for the door. At this his grandfather seemed to reanimate like a puppet whose strings had been wrenched. The old man leapt with shocking speed to block the front door.

“You can’t” Jo said. Ryan threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Why?! What aren’t you telling me?” He shouted. The old man just shook his head.

“Nothing, Ryan but the woman isn’t right in the head. There is nothing that she can tell you. Forcing this on her now would break her.” His grandfather said hastily, hands pressed over the doorknob at his back. Ryan looked from his grandfather to his mother who was now rushing back in, two large suit cases in toe.

“What about the curse!? You said I got sick last time I left the island.” Ryan said, really starting to panic now. Alice shot them both a sharp glare.

“You were a baby and you got a fever. I’ve never heard of a baby that didn’t get sick in its infancy.” She barked, shoving him towards the door.

“You have been to visit your cousins plenty of times. Now move.” She snapped. Ryan tripped over his own feet as he was shunted towards the door.

That fact was oddly true…. He had seen his cousins on the mainland several times. Granted, it had only ever been for a couple of days but he had gone. There was one other very large problem. A problem that was still thick and heavy around his neck. Ryan had dared a glance in the mirror after he had his shower.

The collar was tucked under the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t sure why his mother hadn’t noticed. Given how wide and darting her eyes where and how pale her pallor, he guessed that the woman was far to busy with her own panic to notice.

He bit his lip hard. Should he tell them? He had to at some point but what was the use now? He needed to get more information and his mother knew there was more to the story. She would never tell him here. He also missed Tyler.

“Okay.” He said, backing down.

For now.

Alice looked mildly relieved. Jo moved away from the front door and pulled it open. The three rushed out. The rain had stopped and low thick fog had rolled in. Ominous and thick, it made the journey to the wharf an uncomfortable one. The heavy wet air was hard to breathe. Before long, Ryan’s clean cotton shirt felt damp and clammy.

The small group made it all the way to the dock without seeing another living soul. Everything had been hectic since he had got back, Ryan hadn’t even had a chance to check in with Trent. He looked back up the dirt road they had come but with the thick curtain of fog, the houses weren’t even visible.

That wait in that cold fog on that dreary afternoon would be one Ryan would remember for the rest of his life. They stood, so tensely still, his mother at his back, his grandfather at his front. Every breaking wave against the rocks sounded like voices. Every rasp on grasses like scales on the wooden peer. His breathes hurt his lungs.

Fear, raw and living, squirmed in his chest. He knew this wouldn’t be allowed. If Firth discovered he was leaving the island, even if he was still within the time limit, Ryan suspected he would stop him. Maybe he would take him straight back to the depths of the ocean. Maybe he would be left there. Alone until something found him.

The two daggers were still under the bed back in his bedroom. He hadn’t had time to grab them! Was that a figure moving in the fog or just the wind? Were the waves coming in faster? Was the air getting thicker?

It had been one of the longest days of Ryan life. He was almost swaying with fatigue, the long swim and overload of information mixing together to form the perfect cocktail of exhaustion. He wanted to lie down. He wanted to go back to his house, climb into bed and pull the blankets over his head. For the first time ever, he felt like a child rather then a teenager. It was all too much.

“It will be okay.” Alice whispered, squeezing his shoulders hard. He wanted to believe her but she only knew half of what the problem was. The task ahead of him seemed impossible. How was he to end a curse when his own father had failed? He still didn’t even know the man’s name!

“Here it is.” Grandpa Jo called, obvious relief in his voice. Several lights could be seen through the fog, coming towards them across the water. Ryan moved forward with his mother, trying to pretend he wasn’t hearing something moving in the grass. Whatever it was sounded heavy and slick.

His mother rushed forward to speak to the ferryman. Ryan was gently pushed forward onto the rocking vessel, his grandfather stepping on after him.

Ryan put his hands on the railing. Grip tight, he tried to take in air. The salty sea air coated his palette. It was so familiar and yet now, so new and thick with hidden terrors. The hair rose on the back of his arms as the ferry set off. No one else got on the ferry and no one had gotten off. There were just tall shapes of people in the gloom. Ryan looked down at his feet.

He jumped violently when a piece of driftwood bumped into the side of the vessel. He refused to look up, not trusting his own eyes. Cold sweat made his palms sweaty as he held onto the paint chipped railing.

“Not long.” His grand father murmured though to who, he wasn’t sure.

“What did you tell everyone whilst I was away?” Ryan whispered, finally asking a question he had been wondering since he has first woken in that underwater prison.

“We weren’t sure what to tell everyone at first. There was no explanation that would help us. We called for a search team though we knew we wouldn’t find you.” Alice’s voice was barely audible over the sound of the ferry and the crashing waves.

“In the morning we put the word out that we had found you.” She said, shocking the hell out of him. Ryan felt his jaw drop.

“You what?” He yelped. A couple of the strange figures shifted silently from where they stood.

“We told everyone that you needed some time on the mainland, away from the island so we were sending you away for the rest of the school holidays.” Ryan was in shock. He didn’t know whether to be royally pissed off at his mother or upset that anyone actually believed her. What about Trent? Ryan hadn’t even had the chance to check his phone. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen that on his night stand either.

Surely his best friend wouldn’t have believed that he would just disappear off to the mainland without saying goodbye. Without saying anything to anyone!?

“Why would you do that?” His voice came out rather embarrassingly squeaky.

“We didn’t know that you were coming back but we prayed that you would. That you would find a way to escape and come home.” His chest tightened at the sound of a formed sob in his mother’s throat.

“But I…”

He didn’t escape.

They let him go.

They would also take him back if they realized he was trying to escape the islands. If he could.

“We just needed to buy some time, work out what to do.” She finished. He felt cold. It hurt to unclench his teeth.

“And if I had never come back?” He rasped. His mother didn’t answer him. The journey felt like an eternity. He tried to lose himself in the rocking of the boat. Ryan felt like an insect being tossed around in a glass bottle. He was so small, so visible in an unforgiving churning sea. He felt that at any minute a hand could pluck him from the deck of the ferry and he would be dragged back under the crashing waves.

As they got closer to the city, there were lights and colours to bleed through the gloom. For the first time in his life, Ryan was relieved and happy to see them. The fog wasn’t so thick here and he could see perfectly ordinary people walking down the road and sitting in the cafes. He could see cars in the beachside car park and other boats tethered to the peer. The world suddenly felt ordinarily and he was his normal size again. He breathed a little easier.

The wheels of the suitcase clacking loudly on the ramp as they got off the ferry. Ryan realized with some confusion that they were headed to the carp park.

“Urh, where are we go? Aunt Joanne’s house is that way?” Ryan said, looking back at the street sign to Pickerton Crescent. His grandfather hesitated. Alice cleared her throat.

“Your aunt isn’t staying at their holiday house at the moment. We are driving to see them inland.” Ryan stared at her.

“What?” She kept walking until Ryan was forced to jog to catch up. She stopped by a small white sedan. She opened the passenger door.

“We can’t!” He shouted.

“We are going.” She said stoutly.

“It’s not that simple! I don’t think-” She whirled around, her expression one he had never seen before in his life.

“Ryan Regale, I don’t care what you think right now! I raised you! I am your mother and you will do what I say and what I’m saying right now is get in the damn car!” She shouted. The street went uncomfortably quiet.

Still shaking, still red in the face, Ryan open the car door and slid into the back seat. Alice slammed the door shut and leapt into the driver’s seat. As Ryan fumbled with his seat belt, he glanced up at the rear-view mirror. He couldn’t control that overwhelming feeling of dread.

Nor could he ignore how the salt stained grey windows of the beach houses all looked like the dead eyes. Milky grey and fish like, those eyes were watching him as the car engine roared to life. They watched him without blinking as the car wheels started to move. Alice put her foot down and they took off down the road, leaving the beach and its roaring ocean behind.

For just half a moment before they rounded the bend Ryan could have sworn, he had seen a cloaked figure standing beside one of those empty buildings. It was unnaturally tall and unmoving. But then they hit the corner and the figure was gone.

Out of sight but certainly not out of mind. Ryan knew even as he sank low in his seat, that he had made a terrible decision.

\--

END

\--


	10. Bad Dreams

\--

Chapter Ten  
Bad Dreams

\--

It was like coming down from a bad caffeine high. Ryan sat curled up in the back of the car, shaking. The thick fog had turned to rain and the world outside the bleary windows was getting darker. There was no music playing over the radio. Neither his grandfather nor his mother spoke a word. They just drove and drove. With every road sign they passed Ryan felt the dread like something viscos, growing in the atmosphere. It was cold in the car and Ryan's clothes were damp. He shivered and curled in smaller on himself, drawing his knees up to his chest like a child.

The collar about his throat was tight. He didn't dare touch it as though his own acknowledgment of the object would bring it to life to strangle him. He could pretend that he just wanted to find out more about his father. He could pretend he was leaving with the full intention of coming back. 

But he knew he wasn't.

He wasn't sure his mother would even let him. How long would it take before Firth noticed he wasn't on the island anymore? 

Would he follow him?

Could he follow him?

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the way the pounding rain of the car roof was starting to sound like something immense trying to break in. At some point, the exhaustion of the day got the best of him and he fell into a restless half sleep. The rocking motion of the car like the waves of the roaring ocean, Ryan tossed about in the seat, unable to get comfortable. The street light reminded him of the glowing coral. The reflective glint off a front shop window was a silvery fish. He whimpered miserably, turning over. He never saw the deep worry etched into his grandfather's face as the old man looked at him through the rear-view mirror. 

They reached his aunt's hours in just under two hours. It should have taken longer but the driving rain had forced most sensible people to stay in their warm homes. Alice's white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and hawk like expression told of just how hard she had held her foot to the accelerator. The sun had long been stolen by the gloomy ever-present storm clouds and it was only by the car's orange headlights that the house came into view from the end of a long muddy driveway. Ryan woke from his half dose with a violent start. 

"Leave the suit case. We'll get it in the morning when the weather fines up." Grandpa Jo suggested. Alice nodded curtly, grabbing her purse off the back seat beside Ryan.

"It wasn't even supposed to rain this afternoon." She growled. Ryan shivered. The group exited the car and made for the front porch, all hunching against the driving rain. the porch light came on and there was a commotion from inside the residence. A small dog was yapping, feet were thudding and a woman's voice called;

"Alice, is that you?" Aunt Joanne was a stout woman with perpetually frizzy black hair and an expression like someone who'd just swallowed a particularly large lemon. She looked at the three of them in amazement as she swung open the door. 

"Good grief, look at the state of you's!" She gawked. A bouncing ball of aggressive brown fluff was barking nosily at her mistress's heels, the Pomeranian's eyes fixed on Ryan. They were ushered inside, the little dog barking madly the entire time. 

"Can't believe this rain." She said, wiping her hands of the large fluffy pink apron she was wearing. The smell of battered fish and oily chips was thick in the air. Ryan's stomach growled loudly. Even from the entryway, Ryan could hear his cousin arguing loudly. There was pressure at his back as Grandpa Jo gently pushed Ryan over the threshold of the crowded house. Ryan held in a yelp as his aunt gave him a hug that nearly broke his ribs.

“I swear your thinner every time I see you! Get in here.” She barked, beckoning to the kitchen. He glanced briefly at his mother who nodded sharply. Shoulders hunched; Ryan followed. There was a piercing wail and a flurry of fire tuck pyjamas hurtled towards him. 

Tyler’s was bawling as he all but climbed up his older brother’s body. Ryan had to seat himself quickly on the kitchen stool or risk dropping his little brother.

“He’s been in quite a state, I must say. Has said some quite ridiculous things to. Really, Alice, I think you should cut down on the amount of time he sits in front of the television.” Aunt Joanne griped. Alice pursued her lips but said nothing.

“Urgh, anything I can help with?” Grandpa Jo asked, trying to defuse the tense atmosphere.

Ryan buried his damp face in his brother’s hair. Tears bit into the corners of his eyes. He had missed Tyler so much he had begun to think a fissure was forming in his being. His grip was tight but Tyler’s was tighter, the tiny fingers surprisingly bruising as he gripped at Ryan’s arms and torso. 

“It’s okay little lemur, I’m here. I came back.” 

I took a very long time to calm Tyler down. Aunt Joanne tutted and shot them several disapproving looks. Alice tried to console her youngest but when she tried to take him from Ryan’s arm’s the small boy cried louder still. Ryan shook his head and his mother gave up.

“He’s been having nightmares.” Aunt Joanne said, her eyes narrowed. 

“Waking us all up in the night.” She began serving fish and chips out onto pink patterned plates.

“I appreciate you looking after to him for the last few days.” Alice said though her tone was rather clipped. 

“Honestly Alice. When are you going to move off that horrible island? It’s no place for children.” She went on, chattering without seeing the anger on her sister’s face.

“Those boys need a man, a proper father figure. No offense intended dad.” Gloria said. Grandpa Jo was looking very tense. It was like a standoff between two alley cats. Before either could start a real fight the sound of shouting carried down the hall.

“What is he crying about now!?” Came a girl’s voice.

“No idea. He’s such a cry-baby!” Said another girl’s voice. Ryan’s cousins, Hazel and Ruth charged into the room. They stopped short at the sight of Ryan and his mother.

“Oh!” Said Ruth.

“Dad, they’re here!” shouted Hazel.

“About time!” shouted uncle Tom. 

Everyone shouted in this household. Ryan wished they would stop. He rocked his little brother in his lap.

“Good grief, you think the kid was about a year old the way he carries on.” Uncle Tom crumbled. At the end of his tether, Ryan opened his mouth to tell his uncle to keep his opinions to himself when Grandpa Jo stepped up and grabbed Tom’s hand rather overenthusiastically. 

“Yes well, it’s been a long journey. We’re all about tired and hungry. How are you Tom?” Jo asked, shaking the man’s hand with enough force to borderline on violence. 

“Urhm fine thanks.” Tom said, perplexed.

“Where have you been?” Hazel snapped at Ryan, poking him hard in the shoulder.

“Yeah, its been ages. Did you bring us anything?” Ruth barked. 

“Like what, seaweed? There’s nothing on that island dumby.” Hazel sneered at her sister. Ruth sniggered. 

Ryan glared.

Ryan didn’t like his cousins over much. They were quite like their mother, round, abrasive and over indulgent. Joanne was a woman who, in her opinion, raised her daughters right. They got what they wanted, when they wanted. It didn’t matter that they didn’t do well in school. Doing well in school was ‘unrealistic for the real world’ according to aunt Joanne. 

“Dinner!” She bellowed. 

\--

For the first morning, his thoughts of the island were pushed right out of his mind. 

He was so relieved to have Tyler safe and with him. The household was full of people. His older cousins bombarded him with questions about shopping and what girls he was seeing and where he was going to move to when he finished school.

Crumpet the Pomeranian barked nosily as the twins got into a fight about what television program to watch whilst Aunt Joanne spoke loudly and constantly over the lot of them. Toast was thrown, Tyler was laughing and Grandpa Jo challenged Tom to a game of cards. It was utter chaos and it was exactly what Ryan needed. 

He didn’t even mind the rain which was almost constantly pounding down in the tile roof. Aunt Joanne insisted on practically living in the kitchen. She was constantly cooking. When they were done with breakfast, she made a huge bowl of buttered popcorn for the children to go and watch television whilst the adult talked. 

In kitchen. So Aunt Joanne could bake brownies.

Ryan was tossed between feeling grateful for the constant noise and company to hating it immensely. Even going to the bathroom had to be done quickly because someone inevitably pounded on the door demanding for him to hurry up. 

Lunch was a full roast with everything from peas, boats of gravy and Yorkshire pudding. Crumpet barked and yipped until someone gave him a titbit of this or that. Crumpet was a very round Pomeranian. 

Just like his owners.

If nothing else, Ryan could get back any weight he had lost in the couple of days with little food. Every meal he had to loosen his belt. Trying to leave the table early or weasel out of extra helpings was a worse crime then uttering a disgusting swear word in this house. Tyler was almost constantly at his side. He would refuse to sit anywhere that wasn’t near Ryan, even at the dining table. 

“It’s not healthy for him to be so attached.” Aunt Joanne said matter-of-factly. Alice glared. It was a mark of just how worried she was for her sons that Alice. According to grandpa Jo, the sisters had fought constantly like cats and dogs when they were children. Almost every trip that Ryan could remember had seen a few verbal sparing matches between them. This time though, Alice barely said a word and it looked like it was costing her a great deal. 

It wasn’t until late that afternoon whilst they were sitting on the massive expanse of couches sharing the brownies that reality came crashing down.

“By the way, what is that horrible thing around your neck?” Ruth piped up from beside her sister. Ryan froze. Tyler looked up at him curiously.

“Yes, its hideous. Is that the latest fashion with island people these days? Chunky chokers from the 1980s? Your girlfriend has horrible taste.” Hazel said with a nasty grin. 

“He hasn’t got a girlfriend.” Tyler chirped.

“How would you know squirt? You don’t even know what a girlfriend is!” Ruth sneered. Tyler went red in the face. 

“Yes, I do!” He squeaked indignantly.

“Leave him alone.” Ryan growled for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. 

“Well?” Ruth barked. Aunt Joanne was trying to crane her head over the kitchen counter where she had been kneading dough.

“I can’t see it. Let me have a look Ryan.” She cooed. Ryan could feel the blood pounding in his ears and knew his face was probably getting red to.

“It almost looks like a dog collar.” Hazel cackled. 

“You would think that.” Ryan said, trying to keep his voice even.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” She squawked. 

“Nothing.” He said, pretending to be aloof. He knew this would get a rise out of his cousins but an argument was between then explaining the collar. He hunched his shoulders a little higher in pretence of getting more comfortable on the massive couch, hiding the heavy collar from view of the adults behind them. 

“What, you think you’re too good to tell us? Well whatever, we wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something like that!” Ruth shouted.

“Yeah!” Hazel bellowed.

“Girls, I can’t hear the television.” Tom roared.

“Shut up dad!” The girls roared back. Brownies were thrown, the dog was barking and Ryan groaned. He tried not to notice his mother’s anxious expression. 

After another massive meal Ryan and Tyler retreated to the spare room. He was glad his aunt and uncle owned such a large house. It had five bedrooms. The idea was to rent the other rooms out in the summer for a bit of extra money. Unsurprisingly though, people never stayed for very long. Grandpa Jo and Alice would be staying in one and Tyler and Ryan would be staying in the other. It was comfortable enough but even being so late, the house was still full of noise. Ryan closed the door to try and cut up some of the din. It helped if only a little.

“I’m sorry.” The voice was so tiny Ryan almost thought he imagined it. He turned to see Tyler in his pyjamas, tears running down his little cheeks. 

“Hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.” Ryan murmured, scooping him up.

“You left. He took you.” Tyler sobbed. 

“I know. It’s not your fault though, I promise. I had to go.” He said uncomfortably.

“Why?” Tyler whimpered. Ryan winced. This really wasn’t something he could explain to a five-year-old. Although… if anyone would believe him about magic, mermaids and pirates it probably would be a five-year-old. He sighed.

“My dad did some bad things a long time ago. He hurt some people and I need to find a way to make things right. It might take a while and I might have to leave again.” He winced at his own explanation. It was half assed at best but he didn’t want Tyler involved in this anymore then he already had been. 

Hell. 

It was no wonder his younger brother was having nightmares. That image of his brother’s terrified face as he had been dragged under the water was one he would probably never forget. 

“You have to leave again?” Tyler croaked. 

“Yeah bud.” Ryan whispered. From somewhere down the hall a door slammed, making them both jump. Hazel was fighting with Tom about something. The words ‘never’ and ‘phone’ were audible. 

“Can I come too?” Tyler asked. Ryan gave a weak grin.

“Not this time lemur.” He said gently.

“Why not?” Tyler pouted.

“It’s not safe.” 

“Is that because they are under water?” Tyler chirped. Ryan stared.

“Umm. Yes?” God this conversation was getting uncomfortable. 

“What did dad do?” Ryan groaned and took his little brother over to one of the beds and set him down on it.

“I’m not entirely sure. That’s what I need to figure out. This is a secret though, okay? Just between you and me.” He whispered. Tyler looked astonished.

“Even from grandpa?” He sniffed. Ryan tucked the blankets tight around his little brother.

“Yeah. Goodnight buddy.” He murmured. Tyler blinked sleepily up at him.

“Goodnight.” Ryan retreated to his own bed and climbed under the covers. The bed was oddly lumpy and he missed the smells of his own bedroom. Mainly he missed the quiet with the sound of soft distant ocean waves lulling him to sleep. He rolled over several times. It was a long while before the house settled down. Even without the shouting, pipes creaked and rain pounded above them. Shivering, Ryan closed his eyes.

\--

Ryan kept his eyes shut, even in the dream. He knew as he felt his own weightlessness and the soft tugging of his hair that he was under the water. 

“What have you learned?” Firth’s voice came clearly through the gloom. He opened his eyes. 

Deep blue and black surrounded him on all sides. They were drifting, him and the merking. Glittering scales and deep scars caught the dim light. 

“I found my mother.” Ryan said, feeling he may as well be as truthful as he could. Fist raised an eyebrow.

“That is of little importance.” Firth said dismissively. 

“For you maybe. My life is falling apart for that matters to you.” Ryan snapped. There was a change of pressure as Firth was suddenly in front of him. A clawed hand gripped his throat, the other buried in his hair. 

“Your life is of little consequence to me human. Your only goal should be to find away to break this curse.” The kind snarled, showing rows of sharp teeth. Pain tore at his skull front the fierce grip. 

“Fuck you.” Ryan spat. Firth sneered; his face utterly inhuman. Then, just as suddenly, it changed. The grip eased and the claws eased under the collar. 

“This.” He said, yanking on the collar. 

“This makes you mine. This binds you to me. Fight it all you want, say what you want but unless you give me the information I require, I will be sure to use this collar to bring you into complete subservience. Perhaps you need to see what that looks like?” He crooned. Ryan wrestled with the long iron fingers holding him. He kicked his legs uselessly in the water.

“You said I had forty-eight hours! Let go of me! What the hell is wrong with you?” Ryan shouted. Bubbles rose into the water around them. An odd shadow seemed to pass over the merman’s face at the long spindly fingers released him. Ryan stared wide eyed at the creature in front of him.

“Twenty-four hours. That is all you’ve got.” Firth said.

The ocean seemed to tip sideways. Ryan was rolled and tossed like a plastic bag in the waves. Over and over until he landed, hard and disorientated back in his bed. 

Tyler was peaking at him from the other side of the bedroom.

“Bad dream?” Tyler asked, his face pinched with worry. Ryan wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

“Yeah buddy. Just a bad dream.” He managed to rasp. His scalp still ached.

“I get those.” Tyler whimper. Ryan moved over as his little brother padded across the room and climbed into bed beside him as the rain outside grew heavier and heavier. 

\--

END

\--


	11. Ocean of Trepidation

\--

Chapter Eleven  
Ocean of Trepidation

\-- 

The next day started with a great deal more rain. This caused a great deal more whinging from his cousins.

“But we want to go out today!” Ruth yowled at her mother. Aunt Joanne crossed her arms over her chest and glared back at her daughters.

“Absolutely not! It’s a bloody monsoon out there!” She barked.

“But we’re bored!” Howled Hazel.

“Girls, I’m trying to listen to the morning news!”

“Shut up dad!”

“Girls, don’t speak to your father that way!”

Tyler’s grip on Ryan’s arm was almost lethal. The kid had never been around so much arguing in his entire life. To think that he had been stuck here alone with them made Ryan’s chest ache.

Ryan hadn’t gone back to sleep last night. Not really. Every time he thought he was drifting off he would jerk awake, cold sweat beading his temples and under his armpits. Twice he could have sworn there was something else in the bedroom with them. His eyes felt raw and itchy. His skin prickled and he jumped at every loud bang which happened often as the girls went around the house slamming all the doors. Alice was sitting at the kitchen table. She had circles under her eyes and a large mug of coffee in her hands. Grandpa Jo was sitting on the couch, pretending to be deaf in his old age.

They hadn’t even been here for two days and Ryan was already reaching his limit. He missed their home back on the island. He missed his well-worn bed with its patchwork quilt. He missed Trent and Catlin. He missed the quiet with only the swish of the tall silver grasses and crashing waves as background noise.

He was also hyper aware that today was his last day before he was expected back on the shoreline. What would happen if he wasn’t there tonight? Ryan was so tense that his ridged form could have been mistaken for a piece of furniture. He had skipped breakfast. His throat was so dry that he thought eating the jam slathered toast would choke him. Tyler was just as clingy today as he was the day before. Ryan didn’t say anything. He was just as desperate for his family.

He knew this odd sort of stasis couldn’t last forever. How could it? His mother had a job to go to on the island. Granted, she had never taken a sick day in her life and getting leave for the week had probably not been to difficult for her but she couldn’t just never go back to work. Tyler and Ryan had school in a couple of weeks’ time. They had a house, a home back on that island. All their things were there. All their friends were there.

He had tried just once to talk to his mother. Alice’s expression was utterly impassive. She suddenly became particularly interested in the cartoons the girls were watching and went to go sit with them.

So here he sat.

It was strange, surreal that the rain was so much more ominous here than any other time in his life. He’d always loved the rain. He had fond memories of listening to the cold beating rain on their roof as he and his family played board games or cards. The pieces being so much more slippery as Alice would always make a large bowl of hot buttery popcorn to accompany the games. The rhythmic raindrops would lull him to sleep as a young child and make him laugh as he and Trent would go sliding down the road to the school. The longest slide got to pick the best lunch that day.

Now…

Now the rain seemed like thousands of voices. It was like a living, growing, thundering presence. It was a constant reminder that Ryan should not be here. He should be home, on his island. He should be by the ocean. He should be where Firth could find him.

…

Find him?

Ryan shifted on the couch. Where had that thought come from? His fears? His worries that maybe his family could be hurt? Those were all there, bubbling below the surface. His hand came up to touch the heavy, slightly to tight collar that rested against his throat. After today, he would have broken his promise to return.

What would happen then?

\--

This was wrong.

He knew it was. He had never stolen anything in his life! But he couldn’t go to bed.

Wouldn’t.

His brain wouldn’t shut up and the idea of falling asleep and seeing those dreams terrified him. His mind went around and around and around and he just wanted it all to stop.

He had drunk alcohol before. A couple of months ago Catlin had held a BBQ at her house. Many of their year from school had come and Ryan had been offered a beer. It was mild and they were on school break so he drank it. After that was a whiskey. He drank it but stopped there. He was enjoying himself. He didn’t really see the need to drink until he was sick. He was safe, faintly buzzed and surrounded by people he liked.

Trent had made fun of him for being a light weight. Then he fell over into the flower garden. Trent had drunk a lot more than one beer and a whisky. Ryan had laughed and then helped himself to another burger. He thought back to those days, carefree and fun.

He faced the liquor cabinet and bit his lip so hard that it bled. He tested the handle but it was locked. He just needed something to take the edge off. To help him relax. He hadn’t been able to even sit in one place for more than five minutes since the sun had gone down. He half expected someone pound on the front door.

He didn’t have the faintest clue what he would do if someone did.

He vaguely remembered that his aunt had opened a bottle of wine to go with dinner. There was at least one third left. It might be in the fridge. He might have been more worried of someone catching the missing alcohol if not for the fact that his cousins often helped themselves to an underage drink. Aunt Joanne seemed to find this funny rather than concerning.

“Oh, they are such rambunctious young girls but they’re quite responsible!” She had insisted to Alice’s dumbstruck expression. She didn’t notice as Hazel helped herself to a crisp twenty from her mother’s purse. Ryan rocked on the balls of his feet, deciding on what to do. Suddenly his blood ran cold as a door swung open down the hall and a familiar shrill voice rang out.

“Ryan, what are you doing?” Ruth hissed. Ryan put one finger to his lips, trying to shush them. The girls exchanged devious looks and then marched down the darkened hall towards him, hands on their hips. It would be their idea of fun, to get their goody-two-shoes cousin in trouble.

“What are you doing up so late?” Hazel weaselled.

“Yeah. Dad said to go to bed.” Ruth added pompously. She glanced over at the liquor cabinet and then back to her cousin. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What were you doing?” she said. Ryan hesitated. If he tried to go back to his room now, they would surely raise the alarm.

“Your both right.” He said hastily.

They stared.

“The island is boring. I want to hear about what you’ve been doing, what’s been happening.” Ryan was so giddy with fear and desperation that the words came out almost easily.

The girl’s faces lit up. They practically squealed and Ryan silently prayed that no one would wake to find them in the corridor.

“Poor Ryan!” Hazel cooed.

“If you’re going to steal the liquor, steal the good stuff.” Ruth sniggered. She took a bobby pin out of her hair and shoved him out of the way. He watched, dumbfounded as she inserted the bobby pin and began to twist it around. Clearly well practiced, it wasn’t long before the lock clicked open and she extracted a bottle of amber liquid. The label wasn’t in English.

Together, his cousins frog marched him back to their room with the bottle. Ryan didn’t even protest.

They sat down on one bed and Ryan sat down on the other. Both were decorated with rather hideous flowery bedding covers. Their whole room was massive and decorated into pale pinks and cheerful oranges. All the bright colours were a little disorientated. He shoved a fluffy teddy aside to get more comfortable. Ruth opened the bottle and took a swig. She passed it to her sister who did the same. Hazel wiped her mouth and held it out to Ryan

Feeling utterly out of place, he took it. The girls stared eagerly. He put the bottle to his lips and took a gulp…

Then immediately started to cough and splutter. The unexpected burn made his eyes water. The girls laughed.

“Told you he would be a light weight!” Ruth giggled. Hazel nodded.

“Go on, have another drink. You need it.” She sniggered. Still coughing, Ryan straightened up again and reluctantly took another, all be it, smaller swallow. He managed to keep it down this time. He could feel it sliding down his throat, heating him and settling prickly warm in his belly.

“So.” He croaked. He looked from one to the other, hoping they would fill the silence. Predictably, they did.

“It was so weird when mum said you would be staying with us. You hardly ever come visit.” Hazel said, her eyes accusatory.

“Yeah. She said Aunt Alice finally snapped.” Ruth said cheerfully. Ryan flinched.

“So, what happened? What did you do?” Hazel added quickly. He hesitated. He wasn’t sure how much to tell them. Honestly, he didn’t even want to be really talking to them in the first place. They gossiped too much. The bottle was passed around again.

Suddenly, an odd idea popped into his head.

“An old friend of my dad’s showed up.” He said cryptically. The girls had matching frowns.

“Your dad that lives in California? Didn’t he ditch your mum when you were a baby?” Hazel said with all the grace of a pelican with the fine china. Ryan nodded stiffly.

“Something like that. I think there might be more to it then that but mum won’t tell me anything and when that guy kept hanging around, she wanted us to go away for a while. Maybe she figured he’d give up if we weren’t there.” Ryan said. He didn’t know if his story sounded believable. Both girls exchanged excited looks.

“Why would anyone want to talk to you that badly?” Ruth sniped.

“No idea. Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything?” He said in what he hoped was an off-hand manner. His cousins shrugged.

“The weather was so bad that mum didn’t want to go to the coast house for the school break. So we have to stay in this boring place. Aunt Alice called a couple of days ago. I don’t know what she said but mum was really surprised. Then Alice dropped off the twerp and vanished again. It was kind of rude.” Ruth said, her nose stuck up in the air. Hazel nodded and took a gulp from the bottle. Ryan fought the twinges of anger and annoyance.

“And your mum didn’t say why?” Ryan pushed. The girl seemed to think. Their cheeks were getting red from the alcohol. The bottle was pressed back into his and he took another swig.

“She said that you were having problems. She was kind of worried that guy would show up here again.” Ryan froze.

“What guy?” he asked. Hazel pulled a disgusted face.

“Some filthy looking homeless guy. He just wandered up our driveway. Dad was about to chase him away when he started shouting some nonsense about how it was our responsibility to help you do the right thing. Said your name and everything. He wouldn’t leave even after dad threatened to call the cops. He was still shouting when dad closed the door in his face. By the time the cops showed up the nutter had just vanished.” Hazel said. Ruth nodded beside her, wearing the same expression of disapproval.

“What did he look like?” Ryan was leaning forward on his elbows, staring from one to the other. The girls shrugged.

“Dunno. It was dark and dad didn’t want us talking to him. Is that the guy who turned up on the island? Is he like some weirdo stalker?” Hazel asked. The bottle was now two thirds of the way empty. Ryan was starting to feel a little sick and only pretended to drink the next time it was handed to him.

“Could be.” Ryan muttered although he didn’t think it sounded like Firth. For one insane second he thought… could it have been his father? Was that possible? He swallowed a lump in his throat. Den had told him his father had been killed for starting the war. This just led to more bloody questions!

“You should just call the police and get him arrested, reported at least. Creepy weirdo like that, who knows why he’s following you.”

“Maybe he’s a serial killer!” Ruth hissed; her eyes bright. Ryan tried to look uninterested.

“Why did Alice say you were coming here?” Hazel cut in.

“Well she wanted us to come for a visit for the school holidays anyway, plus the weather on the island has been worse than usual. I guess when that guy turned up it just pushed mum to leave in a hurry.” Ryan said in what he hoped was a bored tone. What he had said wasn’t untrue it just wasn’t the full truth either. He didn’t think anyone would believe the full truth. Not even Alice. Not really. She still seemed to be trying her best to ignore any possible problem.

“Well, whatever. Your mum needs to lighten up a little.” Hazel slurred. Ryan felt the last of patience ebb away.

“I think I’ll go to bed. It was… good to catch up.” He said awkwardly. The Hazel waved him away, apparently bored of the conversation. Ruth just hiccupped.

\--

Whilst the conversation he had just finished with his cousins hadn’t exactly been fun, he had learnt something new. What to do with that information, he wasn’t sure yet. The conversation had also helped to distract him from the long crawl of each minute.

Unfortunately, he was now alone again and had nothing to stop him from constantly checking the time. Ryan sat completely ridged on the edge of the bed. His knuckles were white where they gripped the bed covers. His eyes flicked from the digital alarm clock on the bedside table, to the closed window curtains, to door that stood ajar and back to the clock. He was so tense, his senses on high alert. He had turned the light on then turned it back off again, worried that it would draw attention to himself. He sat in the dark, jumping at every creak, sweating at every strong gust of wind.

11:45.

He felt a little sick. He really shouldn't have drunk so much. His head was spinning and his eyes felt itchy. He wanted to scratch them. He didn't.

11:50.

Was the wind getting stronger? The curtains didn't move. The window was shut tight. He got up to check that it was locked. It was. He knew it was. He had already checked three times. He glanced out into the darkness. Cold rain lashed the glass. There was the silent glow of distant gold lights from properties down the road. It was impossible to tell if anything moved in the yard below. Ryan closed the curtain carefully and went back to sit on the bed.

11:57.

He felt like a prisoner waiting to be collected by the executioner. He wanted his blades. Maybe it was better he didn't have them. He had heard stories of people attacking intruders only to find out when the lights came on that it was the daughter sneaking in, the boyfriend coming in late or the neighbour knocking on the door. Someone grunted in their sleep down the hall and Ryan started violently. The bedspring creaked.

11:59.

His breathe was sharp and uneven. He was so painfully tense, he thought something would snap. He felt as though the bedroom was shrinking, like the walls were unperceptively closing in around him. Mouth dry, his eyes fixed on the clock.

12:00

He held his breathe.

Nothing happened.

He waited. And waited.

12:02

He let out a very long breathe. The window was intact. The door was still ajar and the rain still fell. Nothing had happened. It took a long time for Ryan to stiffly climb off the bed. He stood in the centre of the room, not entirely knowing what to do. He had missed his deadline. He was sure that the mermen knew he wasn't on the island. If they hadn't known before, they would now. Exhaustion swept over him. He felt sluggish and uncoordinated, helped largely by the alcohol. He crept to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face and drank directly from the faucet. The house was still quiet. He could hear his two cousins snoring.

The world seemed a little more normal. The rooms felt like their proper size again. He could almost believe that these last few weeks had been an utterly bizarre hallucination. His hand came up to touch the collar around his throat. Wearily, he sat down on the toilet lid and traced the collar carefully. No clasp, no lock, not even a seam. He wondered vaguely if he was very careful, if he could saw it off with a serrated knife. Not now though. His hands were still shaking. Ryan checked in on Tyler who had demanded to sleep beside Alice after being frightened by both the thunder and another fight between Ruth and Hazel.

They were both sleeping. Ryan carefully closed the door and slunk back to his own room. He climbed into bed and sat there, still ridged, but breathing a little more normally.

\--

“You look like crap.” Ruth said cheerfully.

“Yeah. You are such a lightweight!” Hazel added. Ryan didn’t look up from his breakfast. Not that he was eating it. The nausea was uncomfortably strong. He really shouldn’t have drunk so much on a near empty stomach. He had, in fact, managed to fall asleep somewhere near dawn. If he had any dreams, he couldn’t remember them and he was grateful.

Alice looked up at her son. She opened her mouth as if to say something but appeared to lose her nerve and got up to make herself a second cup of tea instead. Ryan sighed.

“Ryan, you really must eat. There’s nothing on you! Don’t you get fed properly?” Aunt Joanne barked.

“Yeah, you should eat.” Ruth cooed, pushing a plate of eggs towards Ryan and watching with wicked glee as his face paled at the smell.

“What’s the matter cous, feeling unwell?” Hazel jeered. Tyler glanced up at him.

“Are you sick?” He asked, his little face worried. Ryan gave him a tight smile.

“A little queasy, that’s all. I’ll feel better soon.” Ignoring his cousin’s smirks, he forced down a piece of toast and a glass of juice. He did feel a little better with something in his stomach and allowed Tyler to pull him into the other room to watch some of the children’s cartoons on the television.

The rain had finally stopped and it wasn’t long before Ruth demanded they go to the shops or cinema. It didn’t take long for Aunt Joanne agreed. Alice protested.

“Oh, don’t be such a wet blanket Alice! You could use a good shop to freshen you up. We’ll take the kids, have a nice lunch out, it will be lovely.” She cooed. Alice opened her mouth but Ruth and Hazel were already dumping their dishes in the sink and calling out to Ryan.

“Put your shoes on boys! We’re leaving.”

Grandpa Jo excused himself, saying he was going to help their uncle around the house.

“Got fix that leak in the shed, need a second pair of hands.” Tom said as he put on his tool belt. Joanna pulled a face.

“Just be sure you watch yourselves. I’m not driving anyone to the hospital.” She grunted, pouring some dog biscuits into a bowl. The cloud of fluff masquerading as a Pomeranian galloped into the room at the sound, barking madly.

“Maybe it would be good to be outside for a while.” Alice muttered dryly, starting outside at the weak watery sunlight. Ryan helped Tyler get his shoes on before the party headed out the front door, Hazel banging it loudly shut behind them.

The front garden was littered with debris from the heavy rain. The little flower bed had deep grooves carved into its soft soil, as the though the rain had grown claws and carved out its territory into the countryside. Ryan kept his eyes fixed on the cars. He didn’t want to look around in case he saw footprints in the mud. Footprints that didn’t belong there. Aunt Joanne’s car was more like a mini bus. Apparently, she did the school run for the street and often took in the next-door neighbour’s children as well as her own.

They piled in, Tyler excitedly taking the window seat. Ryan didn’t mind. He didn’t want to look out the window. Aunt Joanne gossiped loudly over the radio which played some hideously peppy bubble-gum pop. The drive into town seemed to take no time at all which was good because Ryan’s stomach felt every little jostle and pot hole. It was surreal to be around so many humans. The shopping centre was packed with early morning shoppers and children off from school.

“We’re going this way.” Ruth called to their mother as she dragged Ryan towards the nearest clothing shop. Ryan sent his mother a panicked look but Aunt Joanne was already dragging her towards and shoe shop on the other side, Tyler clinging to Alice’s arm. Like mother like daughters.

Ryan sat down as his cousins starting rummaging through the clothing racks. The noise of the shopping centre echoed around them. People talking, coffee machines going, trolleys rattling, various beeps, trills and bangs from every corner. The lights inside were overly bright and Ryan groaned miserably as his stared down at his feet, trying to stop the world from rocking a little.

“How about this one?” Ruth demanded, posing in front of him. He glanced up to see the sunflower yellow dress she and put on. It was offensive to the eyes.

“It’s very… bright.” He managed. She hummed and examined herself in the mirror.

“Oh, that’s super cute!” Hazel cooed, coming out to join her sister and an equally offensive bright green dress.

“It is isn’t it.” Ruth agreed, turning one way and then another. Ryan just nodded woodenly when they glanced his way. Sensing potential customers, a shop assistance seemed to appear out of thin air beside them.

“Can I help find anything today?” She chimed in an overly bright voice. The girls whisked away to another rack by the assistant, Ryan took the moment to breathe slowly and hang his head again. He really wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He listened for a while as the girls chattered back and forth. They rushed in and out of the changing rooms with various outfits. He wished he had his phone. He was already so exhausted… He closed his eyes.

Then he froze.

Cool fingertips traced down the back of his neck, stopping at his covered collar.

“You made a bad decision.” Said a familiar male voice. Ryan shivered.

“I wasn’t given much of a choice.” He rasped. Those fingers slid up again, sliding slowly along his scalp, through his hair.

“You were and you chose poorly.”

“You’re not real. You’re not here.” Ryan hissed, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.

“Aren’t I?”

Ryan flung his head up, his eyes snapping open. A young girl jumped at his sudden movement, given him an offended look before scurrying away. He looked around. There wasn’t anyone there. He stood up, looking over the shelves but there was no trace of white hair or broad frame.

He was alone. Even so, his neck prickled.

\--

END

\--


	12. Suspicions

\--

Chapter Twelve  
Suspicions 

\--

“Are you alright?” Ruth asked loudly, bringing Ryan back to himself. The girls had come back over with the assistant. The assistant was looking at him as though trying to decide if he was mentally subnormal. 

“Huh?” He rasped, probably not helping her conclusions. Hazel snorted.

“You drifted off in the chair. Few minutes later you went sort of ridged, then you jumped up like your ass had caught fire.” She said. Ryan blinked. He had fallen asleep? He glanced at the cheap plastic clock that was hanging over the register. He hadn’t realised just how long he had been sitting there. 

“Oh, sorry. Guess I was more tired than I thought.” He said rather lamely. Hazel and Ruth exchanged a quizzical look.

“Well, we’re done. And we want donuts. You can hold our bags lazy bones.” Hazel announced. He followed dully as the girls went to the counter to pay not even bothering to wonder where they got the money to cover the outrageous total. He took the bags from the shop assistant and left the store. 

Had he fallen asleep? He must have. The alternative was ridiculous. Firth wouldn’t be in a shopping centre in the middle of the day surrounded by hundreds of people. He had slept like crap the night before and was stressed. That was all. 

That was all. 

Like he wasn’t living a ridiculous story book nightmare where his father was a pirate and an avenging merking was attempting to kidnap him to keep him at the bottom of the ocean until the world wrote him off as a corpse. 

Ryan was so caught up in his own thoughts, he nearly walked into a lamppost.

“Oh my god, what is wrong with you today? You’re like a complete space cadet.” Ruth snapped, dragging him out of the way of a woman, pushing a buggy, Starbucks clasped tight in one manicured hand. The woman shot him a disapproving look. 

“Sorry.” Ryan said automatically.

“Come on.” Hazel said, giving him a shove. He stumbled, caught himself and walked on. Despite how wretched and tired he felt, he welcomed the smell of the food court. The scent of friend donuts made his mouth water and he went willingly to the front counter. Ruth bought a large bag of cinnamon doughnuts with the strangely kind promise to share them. On a whim and already feeling like crap, Ryan bought a large strawberry and chocolate thick shake. The group sat down at one of the empty tables, Ryan’s arms able to relax once he had finally put down the bags. 

“The shop assistant thought you were pretty cute. Up until you had your little spaz attack.” Hazel teased.

“Yeah. She asked for your number. I told her not to bother, told her you were a bit touched in the head.” Ruth cooed. Ryan rolled his eyes.

“You’re to kind.” He said dryly. The girls laughed. 

“She was cute to.” Hazel added. 

“Probably good not to bother, pretty sure I’m gay anyway.” Ruth choked on her cinnamon doughnut. Hazel dropped her spoon. 

“What!?” They both shrieked together. Several people looked up from their table. Ryan just sagged in his chair. 

“You’re not gay! You have no fashion taste what so ever!” Ruth barked as if that settled the matter. Ryan smiled, poking at the whipped cream atop his shake.

“If you say so.” He drank down his shake and was even graced with one of Ruth’s cinnamon doughnuts. Aunt Joanne and Alice found them still sitting there half an hour later. Aunt Joanne looked pleased with herself her several boxes under one arm. Alice looked grumpy. Tyler hoped up next to his brother as Alice marched away to buy coffee and scones. 

“Where to next?” Ruth pipped up.

“Are there any bookshops nearby?” Ryan asked, suddenly remembering his book. Maybe if he couldn’t find his copy, he could get another one. Hazel groaned.

“You are so boring!” She moaned.

“Now girls, Ryan went along with the shop you wanted to visit, I’m sure we can go see the shop he wants.” Aunt Joanne said primly. 

“I could go now and be back, I know the book I’m looking for. It won’t take long.” He said. Ruth nodded.

“Yeah. Do that. I’m not going in a bookshop.” She sneered, waving him off. Aunt Joanne sighed.

“If you wish sweetie. Your mother and I will be right here with the girls and Tyler.” Tyler was swinging his little feet, his eyes transfixed on the tiny hot chocolate and cupcake that was on the tray his mother ways carrying back towards them.

“See you soon.” Ryan got up and disentangled himself from the girl’s shopping. He headed into the crowd, not seeing the panicked look on his mother’s face as he went. 

Thankfully the bookshop wasn’t too far. He didn’t want to spend an hour going up and down levels to find the damn thing. 

He squeezed passed two elderly woman and headed towards the fiction section. He scanned the spines for several minutes but couldn’t see it. Maybe it went under another classification?

“Did you need a hand?” Asked a young woman with a vibrantly red ponytail. He smiled weakly.

“Yes actually. I’m looking for a particular book but I can’t find the author.” He said. She waved him over.

“I’ll look it up on the computer for you. Do you know the book title?” She asked. He nodded, trailing after her. They passed a table covered in blue books. The card in the centre of the table read “I’m not sure what’s it called but it had a blue cover…” Ryan smiled. Down another aisle and they shuffled passed another table. Ryan glanced back at it. This one was covered in books of all colours, many of which had feathers or wings on the front cover. The card in the middle of this table read;

“I’m not sure what it’s called but it’s got angels in it…” They reached the counter and the woman logged in and then looked up expectantly.

“Yes. It’s called the Lost Islands. It’s written by B.J Whitely.” He supplied as she began to type. There was the strike of the enter key and then a few minutes of silence as she scrolled down the screen. Her brow knitted as she went.

“I’m sorry but it isn’t coming up on the system. Could it be under another name?” Ryan frowned.

“Umm, no, I’m pretty sure that was it.” He said. The sales assistant hummed interestedly. The keys clicked, her mouse clicked and she was scrolling again.

“Weird. It’s not coming up in a Google log search either.” She said it with much politeness though Ryan could hear the undertone of ‘dumbass probably has the completely wrong author…’

“I got the first copy from a second hand sale. It was really old. Maybe it isn’t in print anymore.” He said, shoulders slumping. She glanced up at him and gave him a warm smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sorry I couldn’t find it for you, was there anything else I could look up for you?” She asked hopefully. Ryan shook his head.

“No, but thanks for your help.” As he walked away from the bookshop, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to his original book. Had it just fallen down behind his bookcase or had his mother intervened somehow? If she had, was that because she knew a lot more about all of this then she was letting on? How was he going to get anything out of her if she continued to pretend everything was fine? 

He made his way back to the food court, managing to a least not run into anymore people though twice he stopped dead because he thought he saw a figure with white hair. The first person had been a woman in a floppy hat. The second was an elderly man carrying his groceries. 

Ryan rubbed at his eyes. He really was tired. And hung over. 

Tyler raced over to him as he got back to the food court. His cousins were no where to be seen. He glanced at his mother As Tyler hung off his arm. 

“The girls wanted to look at the new jewellery place on the corner. I figured you wouldn’t be two heart broken if they left without you.” His aunt said with a slightly malicious grin. Ryan gave the first real smile in a long time.

“I will try to contain myself.” He said, flexing his arm so that Tyler could swing from it. His little brother was laughing. Alice was still scowling into her tea cup. Ryan couldn’t help but feel irritation and real anger towards his mother. He knew she was trying to keep him safe but this limbo they were stuck in wasn’t helpful. 

Ryan went and bought himself a coffee and Tyler another cupcake. Partly because he needed the caffeine and partly because he knew it annoyed his mother that he was supplying Tyler with more sugar. Petty maybe but he really didn’t care. They sat awkwardly for quite a while, his aunt gabbling away without the slightest realisation that no in particular was listening. Ryan wondered vaguely if she was just happy to have an audience. Every now and then his mother gave a disinterested "Mmm." or "Yeah." 

"Did you find the book you were after dear?" His aunt asked suddenly, jolting Ryan out of the stupor he'd had fallen into.

"No." Ryan said rather bitterly.

"That's no good. What was it? We might have something similar at home. The girls love to read." Ryan tried to disguise is incredulous snort as a cough. He had seen many bright and hideous things in his cousin's room. Piles of books had not been one of them.

"Maybe. It was about pirates, magic island, that sort of thing." His voice was rather cold and he stared at his mother as he said it. She flinched ever so slightly. Tyler was looking curiously between his brother and Alice. She didn't look up at either of them.

"Aren't you a little old for that kind of fairy tale rubbish?" Ruth said snidely as she and her sister slunk towards them carrying several more bags between them. 

"Did you find anything nice?" Aunt Joanne expectantly. The girls dumped out their bags, chatting enthusiastically. Tyler sat there licking frosting off his fingers whilst the girl showed off their new purchases with very loud voices so that everyone else in the food court had to listen too. Once everything had been packed away and the girls were done with show and tell, Aunt Joanna glanced at the jewelled wrist watch on her rather pudgy wrist.

"Good grief, is that the time? Its passed noon!"

"Yeah, we're bored. Let's go." Hazel said. She stood and started to walk away.

"Well, grab something will you! Don't be so lazy." She snapped waspishly at Ryan. It was on the tip of Ryan's tongue to bark back but he just didn't have the energy. He grabbed the abandoned shopping and followed the party back to the car. 

"You have got to be kidding me!" Ruth howled. In the hours they had spent in the massive shopping mall it had startled to drizzle again. The sight of the fresh rain did not leave Ryan feeling any better. As far as he was concerned, the rain clouds just confirmed that this day was quite as bad as the last. He shivered. As they packed the numerous shopping bag into the boot of the car Ryan couldn't help but feel that familiar creeping unease. He glanced nervously around and caught the eyes of a couple pushing a shopping trolley full of groceries. A can skittered across the pavement, making him jump.

"Hey, scatter brain, get in the car." Ruth said, jabbing him hard in the ribs. Ryan scowled and climbed into the car, shutting the door harder then was strictly necessary. The girls got into an argument on the drive home and Aunt Joanne used the car horn with great exuberance so that by the time they reached the long driveway, Ryan had the world’s worst headache.

He stumbled out of the car with something akin to longing, his ears still ringing from Ruth’s shouting. He could feel a bruise forming on his from were Tyler had been holding on with a death grip. He picked up his little brother and went for the house.

“Hey! He can walk! Help us with the shopping.” Hazel shouted. Without turning around Ryan shouted back.

“Carry it yourself, it’s your rubbish.” 

“Rude!” Ruth squawked. He ignored them. When his uncle opened the door, Ryan stormed passed him without even saying hello. He carried Tyler into the living room. Grandpa Jo looked up from his newspaper. 

“Good trip?” He asked. Ryan scowled. He put Tyler down and his little brother raced towards their grand father and climbed into his lap, burrowing as though he could somehow escape their currant reality. 

“We. Cannot. Stay. here.” Ryan ground out each word low and angry. Grandpa Jo gave a long heavy sigh.

“I know.” He mumbled but he didn’t offer anything more. Ryan turned and marched towards the spare room. He closed the door and shut the curtains on a window that was now full of rain. To pulled off his shoes and climbed desperately into the bed. He would just have a nap, try and sleep off the migraine. 

\--

Ryan’s eyes flew open. He knew it was a dream but unlike every other dream he had experienced, he wasn’t underwater. It was however, bucketing down rain. It fell from the sky with ferocity, soaking him to the bone in seconds. He was standing on dark green grass, a picket fence to him left and a muddy road in front of him. Home.

He was home.

“You.” The word was his only warning. Ryan’s head turned as Firth, tall and powerful, slammed into him.

“What is wrong with you!?” Ryan shouted. Firth looked deranged. Perhaps it was the lack of ocean water that normally made the merking look ethereal but on land, his long white hair looked wilder than ever. It fell in storm blown tangles over his shoulders. He was gripping Ryan’s wrists hard. He towered towards him, forcing Ryan to take a step back until he hit the damp brick of the house.

“You said you would come back to me.” The king hissed, showing pointed teeth. Ryan stared up at him, the rain falling in sheets, falling through his lashes and burning his eyes. 

The rain was salty. 

“I know, I will. I just need more time.” Ryan insisted, his heart thundering in his own ears or was that the lashes waves? 

“No! You said you would come back to me! That was the vow you took. This makes it so!” Firth grabbed the collar around Ryan’s neck and yanked on it hard making Ryan rise on the tips of his toes. Gasping in pain, he stared up at the glossy white and grey eyes.

“You’re a liar just like your father!” Ryan stared, open mouthed, the salt water rain splashing his face, flattening his hair and running cold over his lips. 

That… that was an odd choice of words.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He wondered why he felt oddly calm, like an outsider observing something playing out on a screen. He winced as the grip on his wrists tightened, the claws nicking his skin. 

“You are mine.” Firth snarled. Then he did something Ryan was not expected.

He kissed him. 

Ryan made a noise that could have been a yelp. Sharp teeth nicked his bottom lips. The kiss was cold, wet from the rain and bruising. He wrenched his head back, starring wide eyes at the man.

“What the hell!?” Firth looked temporarily stunned as though he himself couldn’t believe what he had just done. 

“You have to come back.” His voice sounded far away. The veins under his skin looked more prominent, his face strained. He seemed to be having trouble holding this human form. Was he sick? 

“I will come back. I just haven’t found what I need yet. Just let go of me.” Ryan insisted. He was surprised by the conviction in his own voice. 

“No.” Firth muttered. The merking leant forward and kissed him again. Ryan stood there, the rain pounding down on them, to shocked to move.

\--

He woke with a start as his cousin banged on the door.

“Ryan, dinner.” She howled. Ryan sat up. As he opened his mouth to reply, his lip stung. He touched it gingerly. It felt swollen and split. He hurriedly turned the bedroom light on and looked down at his wrists.

They were already starting to bruise. More and more, it seemed, the dream world was coming out in the waking one. Tying not panic, he pulled on a jumper and made sure the marks were covered. This was getting bad. 

He opened the door. Ruth stared up at him.

“What the hell did you do now? Your lip is bleeding.” 

“I… uh, bit my lip.” He said lamely. 

“You really are a nut job.” She spat. 

He followed her out into the corridor, messy his hair to give him a little more disguise. He kept his chin down as he walked into the family room. Thankfully the television was loud, the Pomeranian was barking, Tyler was laughing at Grandpa Jo balancing a spoon on his nose and Hazel was yelling at her father. Basically, it was so loud that he actually wondered how he had managed to stay asleep. No one took any notice as he sat down and grabbed for the bowl of mash potatoes. 

He ate mutely much like his mother and escaped the dinner table as soon as he could. He waited the ear-splitting group broke up. He wished he still had his phone. As it was, he hid in the spare room with the pretence of going to bed. When the door of his cousin’s room slammed, he crept back out. Grandpa Jo was back in the big wing arm chair. Ryan stepped forward into the light. Jo jumped.

“Oh, Ryan you scared me. I-”

“The book. Where is it?” Ryan said flatly. His grand father pretended to read the newspaper again. He had it up-side-down.

“Book? Which one is that then?”

“No. No, we are not doing this. You know damn well which book I mean.”

“Ryan, watch your language, if your mother-”

“My mother is going to get us killed.” He spat. Silence. Jo stopped trying to read the newspaper.

“You know this is real. I know you know more then you’ve let on. What is so important about that book? Why did she take it? Have you read it?” Ryan shot the questions out rapid fire, his eyes darting back to the main living room where his aunt was still talking Alice’s ear off. His grandfather sighed.

“I haven’t read the book but I know that it covers a reasonably factual history of the islands.” He said. Ryan frowned.

“How do you know that?” 

“Because.” He said, folding the newspaper in half.

“Your father wrote it.” 

\--

END

\--


	13. Back to the Island

\--

Chapter Thirteen

Back to the Island

\--

Ryan felt like his head was suddenly filled with a lot of water. He stared down at his grandfather for several long moments.

"My father wrote that book?" He asked stupidly. Jo nodded. 

"A long time ago."

"Your birth mother was able to have half a dozen or so copies printed. That was before... before your father went missing." Jo looked down at the newspaper in his lap. 

"Of course, when I met the man, I had no idea who he was or what he was involved in. We had many young and old that made their way to the wharf looking for work. It was customary to ask few questions back in those days." He said. Ryan sat down on the couch, staring expectantly. 

"What was he like?" Ryan found himself asking without meaning too. Jo smiled ruefully.

"Young, dark haired, a little arrogant perhaps but friendly. Nothing was too much trouble or too difficult. He was as sea worn as many of us, experienced on a boat despite only being in his late twenties." He folded the newspaper carefully, giving his hands something to do. Ryan frowned.

"Did he seem like a killer?" The questions made Jo's head snap up, his eyes hard.

"No." The word came out so firmly that Ryan knew he meant it. 

"Firth, the merking, seems confident that my father started the war between the pirates and the mer people. He also called my father a liar." Ryan said quietly. His grandfather's frown deepened.

"Did he say exactly what your father was meant to have done?" 

"Den, that was the name of the other merman, he said that their prince was injured. The pirates drew first blood. It not really much to go on." He said in a hurried voice. 

"No, it isn't. That book goes into greater detail for at least the first part of the war." Jo said thoughtfully. Ryan threw his hands up in exasperation.

"So why did mum hide it!? Why is she keeping us here!?" Ryan clamped a hand over his mouth. there was a lull in the conversation in kitchen. They had probably heard his raised voice.

"She's scared and running on instinct. A mother's instinct is always to get her children out of harm's way." Jo said wisely. Ryan glared at the patchy carpet.

"She's not even my real-"

"She is your mother heart and soul and that is all that should matter, just as I am your grandfather and Tyler is your brother. We are you family and we love you." The words came out with such force and hurt that Ryan lost his anger. Guilt, worry and frustration force tears to bit into the corners of his eyes. He continued to stare defiantly at the floor. They sat in silence for several long moments, the loud conversation in the other room providing ambient sound along with the pounding resilient rain. Ryan stood and began to pace, thinking hard.

"I think she is worried that you will find the answer on that island or in that book. I think she is worried that the ending of the curse will require a sacrifice." His grandfather said after a long minute, his voice slow. Ryan stopped walking.

"But if that's true, isn't it worth it? To free everyone? To make things right?" Jo looked at the young man standing in front of him. His throat was rather tight as he said

"You really are an incredible young man." The two men shared a silent moment, both to choked up to speak. The two seemed to come to an understanding in that moment. after all, there really wasn't much of a choice. 

"I need to go back. If nothing else, to find the book and read what really happened."

"I know." Jo said with a small nod. The words looked painful to say.

"I don't want mum to be angry with you but I also can't just try and leave. I need help." Ryan rasped. The older man nodded again thoughtfully. 

"When?" He asked.

"As soon as possible. I can't take anything with me or they'll know." Ryan muttered. His grandfather glanced at a rather hideous chicken shaped clock on the far wall.

"The last ferry back to island will leave in an hour and half. If you catch it, we won't be able to follow until the morning. It will give you a little bit of time." 

"Okay but I need to get out of the house and also get to the dock." Ryan said worriedly. 

"Leave that to me, just be sulky. Shouldn't be too difficult." His grandfather teased with a lopsided smile. Ryan gave him a puzzled look but followed the man as he headed for the kitchen. 

"Well! I think desert is a wonderful idea! Tom, you were talking about that excellent double chocolate chip ice cream!" He said with a loud voice. Ryan heard the bedroom door of his cousin's room reopen.

"Ice cream!?" They both yelled. Almost instantly the kitchen was filled with people as Tyler came rushing over to his mother with large puppy dog eyes. Totally distracted, Alice bent down to pick him up. Ryan watched as Tom started to dig around in the massive freezer and his aunt rummaged around for bowls. Alice was shunted to one side. As she stepped away, Ryan watched grandpa Jo swoop in and casually scoop up Alice's mobile phone. As he passed, he handed it to Ryan.

"Call a Taxi, I'll give you some money to pay for it." His grandfather said. Ryan swallowed so hard his throat clicked.

"Thank you." He croaked.

"Go now, whilst everyone is occupied. I'll tell them you've gone to bed with a headache." His grandfather's voice was uncharacteristically throaty. Ryan nodded mutely. The old man hoisted a rather wooden smile back into place and rushed back into the fray whilst Ryan, feeling like the world's guiltiest person, snuck off down the hall. 

He made a show of closing his bedroom door loudly before scrolling through the contacts list until he found the local Taxi company. He ordered a taxi, trying not to let his voice crack. As he waited, he pulled on his socks and shoes. He had told the man to wait for him at the end of the long driveway so that the car's headlights wouldn't be visible from the front windows if anyone happened to peer out. 

He crept stealthily back out to the lounge room. His grandfather handed him a few crumpled notes in exchange for the phone.

"Try to come back, yeah?" The man said with a watery smile. Ryan didn't trust his voice so he just nodded and hugged the man very tight. As the parted, Ryan got a glimpse of Tyler's excited face as he was passed a bowl of ice cream. He felt an extremely sharp twist of pain deep inside at the thought that this could be the last time he ever saw these people again. His eyes blurred and he hurried away from the light kitchen. As he crept away, he heard his grandfather say

"Ryan? Oh, he went back to bed. Still had a head ache." 

"I can't imagine why." Said uncle Tom in an amused, slightly sarcastic tone as Ruth starting yelling about her favourite toppings.

\--

It was freezing outside. The sun which normally didn't set until 7pm was already gone under the heavy rain clouds. He pulled up the hood of his jacket and hurried down the driveway, sticking to the thick grass on the edge as to not leave large footprints in the wet mud. He saw the lights of the taxi and he flung out a hand.

"To the wharf please." He said as he slid inside. The man gave him a very confused and rather suspicious look. 

"Got to catch the last ferry." He said, trying to sound like a confident adult instead of a partly drowned teenager.

"Right..." The cab driver said uncertainly but he pulled away from the house all the same. Ryan watched the house disappear. No one flew out of the front door after him. He was grateful when the driver didn't ask him anything else. He didn't feel like talking. He felt dirty, like he had just done a very bad thing. He knew his mother would be upset and angry. He also couldn't bury the feeling that despite his determination, he was scared. He wouldn't be surprised if Firth tried to kill him on sight. He shivered

The lights of the wharf glowed feebly in the dark. The cab driver pulled up and Ryan handed over the money.

"You can keep the change." He said numbly. The man peered back at him with something like concern on his face. 

"It's rough out there." The man said uncertainly.

"I'm a local. I'm used to it." Ryan said with a very brittle smile. He fumbled with the door handle and stepped out into the rain drenched night. He ran, head down towards the outline of the ferry. Despite the rain and the darkness, the ocean looked no rougher than usual which was a small blessing. This night was bad enough without the risk of the ferry being cancelled. 

"Is that you Ryan?" Yelled the booming voice of the ferryman. Ryan raised a hand.

"Yeah, hey Mark. Are you still heading off?"

"You just made it." The man squinted at him as he came aboard.

"Aye, where your ma at? You on your own?" He asked in surprise, his beard dripped with water.

"Yeah. Bit hard to explain. I need to get back tonight. Trent and his dad are waiting for me." Ryan invented. The old ferryman frowned but gave a shrug.

"Well get under the cover with you for whatever little good it'll do you. This rain just won't let up!" Ryan could have collapsed to the deck in relief as the boat began to move away. Just the same as the journey to the mainland, Ryan was waiting tensely for something to leap from the water at any minute. Rather than torture himself with shapes in the black churning water or shadows in the rain, he looked pointedly at the deck floor and nowhere else until they bumped gently into the roughen old wharf at the main island thirty minutes later.

Ryan pelted away at top speed, he shoes slipping and sliding in the mud. His lungs burned and his eyes were half closed, going by memory rather than sight. He leapt over the little stone wall that marked the edge of the front garden and scrabbled for the loose brick that hid the spare key to the front door. He found the old key and jammed it into the lock of the front door. He turned the handle and burst inside.

He wasn't entirely sure what to expect. Maybe for the king to be waiting for him on the other side? He stood there for a moment. dripping water onto the doormat, squinting into the dark hallway. it was silent except for the pounding rain and creaking roof. He took a timid step inside but nothing moved. It smelt like home and he reached out a hand to try the light switch. Warm light flooded the hallways and Ryan had to close his eyes tight against the sudden brightness. He closed the door behind him.

His shoes squelched as he stepped forward. Wrinkling his nose, Ryan began to strip off his wet clothes and shoes, leaving on his boxers. He shivered. The house was freezing. He hurried over to the fireplace. There was still kindling in the nearby buckets. He lit a fire in the hearth with well-practiced movements. He watched the flames for a while, hypnotized. Once he could properly feel his fingers again Ryan peeled himself off the floor and trudged to his bedroom for clean clothes. It was so good to be back in his own space.

As he reached for a jumper, he felt a tremor of unease. He didn't remember leaving it thrown over his desk chair like that. He looked around his bedroom. It didn't quite feel right though there was anything obvious to say someone had been here. They had left in such a rush it was quite possible his mother had tossed a few things around. 

And yet...

Ryan nervously went to the window and peered out. He saw nothing but blackness and rain. He never noticed the odd shine to the window sill or the scrap of something dark on the latch. He went back over to his bed. Now that he was warming up a bit, he started to look around his room, first for the book but also his phone. 

He found his phone which had fallen down beside his bed. He picked it up but the screen didn't light up. It was totally flat. He fumbled for his charging cable and plugged it in. Now for the book. He looked. And looked. He crawled around on his hands and knees, felt under the dresser, pulled back the covers and sheets of his bed, rummaged through his wardrobe and dumped out his clothes from the dirty clothes basket. When he was convinced it wasn't there, he stormed into his mother's room and repeated the process... all be it a little more respectfully. 

Over an hour later though and Ryan was getting both tired and frustrated. He still couldn't find the book! He had gone through every room in the house though he very much doubted that she would have hidden it in Tyler's room. He was starting to feel slightly panicked. His mother would be after him as soon as she realized he had gone. Maybe not the first ferry at eight, but probably the one after. Where hadn't he looked!? It was with a a gut clenching bolt of fear that Ryan heard something thump down the hallway. He froze, listening hard. 

He couldn't remember if had locked the front door behind him. At once, he remembered his two daggers. This thought however, caused another sickening twist of terror because he had just searched his bedroom and he didn't remember seeing them under the bed where he had left them. He crept down the corridor towards the flickering flames in the lounge room, hardly daring to breathe. 

"Looking for these?" Den said, the blades of the two daggers glinting in the low light. He looked just as old and battle scared on land as he had in the water though now, he stood on two legs in a pair of rough looking trousers. His eyes were hard and his lips were set in a hard-thin line. There was movement to his left. Ryan head whipped around. 

There was a figure with silvery hair sitting in the couch.

"You." Firth hissed. Ryan stared. Was this some sort of trick or did Firth look more human? He knew the merking could take human form but even since the last dream, Firth looked more like a man then a supernatural creature. His teeth were no longer pointed and his skin was less pale and warmer looking. He was hunched over on the couch. Without thinking, Ryan walked towards him.

"You look sick." Ryan heard himself say. Without really thinking, he reached out a hand.

"Don't touch me." The merman snarled but even as he did so, he leaned toward Ryan. Ryan's fingertips brushed the pale cheek. It was burning hot to the touch, not at all the icy smooth scales he was used to. 

"You did not come back." Den growled. Ryan glanced at him. It was odd but seeing Firth looking so sickly helped to ease away some of the fear he had been feeling. 

"My mother saw me drown. Oddly enough the moment she found me alive, she thought it was best to not let me come back to the island." He said flatly. For the smallest moment. he thought Den would smile. 

"This is your fault." The king spat. 

"What is?" Ryan said. The man leapt at Ryan with such speed that they both toppled over. Ryan had the wind knocked from his lungs as he hit the carpet spine first with the heavier man on top. Firth glared down at him. For one terrifying minute, Ryan thought the man would wrap those long fingers around his throat and choke him. 

"Why do I feel like this?!" Firth shouted. Ryan stared up at him. He had no idea what the other was talking about. 

"Get control of yourself sire!" Den grabbed hold of the taller male and wrenched him to his feet. For a second, Ryan was sure Firth would punch the other man. He swayed on his feet and allowed himself to be shoved back onto the couch.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Ryan rasped as he sat up, rubbing his chest.

"The spell that Firth placed on the collar to bind you to him has back fired." Den said heavily. Then, as though a light had come on his brain, Ryan understood.

"Instead of me being desperate to get back to him, he's desperate to get back to me?" Ryan said, shocked. Firth gave a low angry groan.

"How is this possible?" The king hissed. The other merman shook his scared head.

"I don't know but I have a hunch. An unsupported hunch so far but I'm hoping to have more answers shortly." 

"What will happen to him?" Ryan asked, eyeing the merking worriedly. Distantly, he wondered why pitied the man as much as he did. 

"I don't know. The spell was supposed to drive you mad if you did not return." Den gave Ryan a long searching look but before he could say more Ryan interjected.

"Then I won't leave. He can stay here. My mother and brother are still on the mainland. I don't know how long before they come looking for me but Firth can stay here for now." Silence. Both mermen were looking at him, dumbstruck.

"You want him to stay?" Den barked.

"Want is a strong word. I don't want anyone else to get hurt by all this. I need to find my father's old book. I think it will help." 

"That's... why would you want that? You are the son of our enemy." Den said, still holding the daggers. Ryan gave him an annoyed look.

"I. am. not. my. father." He said, punctuating every word. They three lapsed into silence for a long minute.

"I'm going to make some tea; do you want some?" Ryan said, daring to turn around. He was still shaking slightly. He didn't know if one his daggers would find itself buried in his back. Neither merman answered him. He took down the kettle and filled it with water. Hands trembling, he fetched three mugs off the draining board and put a tea bag in each. 

"I don't think the way the war started happened the way we think it did." Ryan said into the uncomfortable silence.

"What do you mean?" Firth growled low. 

"You said my father was a liar. Why? What did he lie about?" Ryan asked, looked up at the hunched figure. 

"He told me he did not attack our Prince." Firth spat.

"And what is your concrete evidence that he did?" Ryan asked, trying to sound impassive. 

"My brother found his son, covered in blood, fighting for his life against your father and three other pieces of human shit." Firth growled.

"Okay, let's try this without the insults. It's not helpful. What did the prince say happened?" Ryan poured the boiling water into the cups and added sugar. 

"Our prince was young. He went to try and bargain with the pirates, to have them leave peacefully. They laughed at him and took up swords and pistols. The boy was shot in the shoulder. He later died of his injuries." Den murmured. 

"You said the islands magic was unbiased." Ryan said thoughtfully to Den. He handed a mug to each man, who stared at as though it were an alien.

"Blow on it or you'll burn yourselves." Ryan muttered as he said down himself. His clutched his own mug, thinking. 

"What if it wasn't my father who drew first blood? If blame was on another of the pirates-"

"Then it would make no difference! The humans still started the war!" Firth said, throwing up his hands. 

"Why do you think the spell Firth put on me backfired?" Ryan asked. The king turned his pale eyes onto the other merman. Den looked very uncomfortable. 

"It is only a theory." He mumbled.

"Which is?" Firth said impatiently. 

"Only that... you used magic to bind the boy to you in a way that would kill him. If he was innocent, utterly innocent then the magic you used would be tainted." Den grumbled. He sipped at his tea loudly. Ryan grimaced. 

"We need to find my father's book."

"And I need to find your brother's documents." Den sighed, looking at his king. He placed the daggers down on the coffee table. 

"Fine. I will help the boy search; you will go back. Don't be long." First growled. Den gave a short bow and left, the sound of pouring rain overwhelming for several seconds as the front door opened and then closed, leaving Ryan and Firth alone. 

"You're not going to lunge for me, again are you?" Ryan said a little uneasily. The king shot him a glare.

"What I feel for you isn't real." The king growled.

"Oh good. It nice to know the constant unfair hatred you show isn't real." Ryan said smarmily. The merking gave a loud snarl and slammed the mug down, splashing tea everywhere and making Ryan jump. 

"Enough!" Firth hissed. They listened to the rain hammering on the roof and the fire crackling in the grate. Ryan got up to add a few logs to it. 

"You kissed me." Ryan muttered. He dared a look at the king and shivered at the intense gaze.

"You didn't pull away." Ryan felt his cheeks heat.

"Yeah well, it was a dream." He muttered.

"We both know it wasn't." 

"If you're done with your tea we should keep looking." Ryan muttered. He placed their mugs in the sink and without turning back around, went back to his room to search again, hyperaware of the massive shadow of the man behind him, following. 

\--

END

\--


	14. On a Stranger’s Tide

-

Chapter Fourteen

On a Stranger’s Tide

\--

Ryan groaned. He really wanted to go back to sleep. He felt almost drugged, his limbs incredibly heavy. They had searched the house for hours. It must have been about two in the morning when Ryan had finally collapsed onto the couch, to exhausted to keep going. He should be freezing. The fire had gone out and the house was in pitch blackness. 

He was almost sure it was morning and now that he was awake, he had no idea how he had managed to sleep through what sounded like a typhoon. The world outside thundered and shook. Rain was pouring down with vengeance and wind howled over the roof top and thudded against the window panes. He shifted gingerly. 

There was warmth at his back and a pillow under his head. He blinked stiffly. He could feel the rise and fall of a large chest behind him. His brain seemed to be full of cotton. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he slowly became aware that he wasn’t the only one lying on the couch. 

Firth had curled around him. Ryan sat up so sharply he nearly fell off the edge of the couch. He looked back nervously at the merking. Asleep, he looked more human and at the same time, ethereal. His skin was so pale it almost glowed in the low light. Scars stood out over large muscles and the long hair fell like a blanket down the man’s back and to his hip. Ryan was once again stuck by the insane surrealism of the situation. 

He flushed faintly and quickly scrambled up. He scurried over to the faintly smouldering fire place to relight it. He tried the light switch and wasn’t remotely surprised to find that it didn’t work. With a sigh, he headed for the generator. It wasn’t until he was refilling the kettle that he heard movement. He came back around the corner. Firth was sitting up. He looked faintly worried until he caught sight of Ryan.

“You’re still here.” The king murmured, some of the tension easing from his frame. Ryan frowned.

“Well yes. I do live here.” Ryan said with a weak smile. Had the merman seriously expected him to run off in the middle of the night? A crash of thunder made him jump.

“We are on generator power at the moment. This storm is pretty wild.” He added. Firth stood; his height emphasised by the flames eerie light. 

“Did you find the book?” Firth asked without much enthusiasm. 

“No but I haven’t been awake for very long.” Ryan sighed. He went back into the kitchen. 

“Are you hungry? The bread is still good.” Ryan called. He started back when he found Firth only a foot away from him. He hadn’t heard him move over the roar of the storm.

“I don’t understand you.” Firth said, his facial expression odd. Ryan put a few slices of bread into the toaster. 

“You don’t have to.” Ryan said quietly. He watched the toast tensely as though it might become sentient and climb back out of the toaster. 

“Do you hate me?” Firth murmured. 

“No. Not really. I get why you did what you did. That doesn’t mean I agree with what you did but I can’t hate you for it.” He supposed he should be angry, be upset. Firth had been responsible for his father’s death but Ryan had never met the man. He had never even seen a photo of his real father and knew so little about him. 

“I misjudged you.” Ryan froze as he felt cold fingertips brush the back of his next where the collar sat.

“I don’t suppose you can just take the thing off?” The toast popped up and Ryan grab two plates and a the butter out of the fridge. 

“No. It is magically bound. I cannot remove it.” Ryan looked at the man then. Firth did look something akind to sorry. Ryan shrugged.

“Just a thought. Honey or peanut butter?” He asked, holding up two jars. Firth frowned, looking from one to the other.

“What’s peanut butter?” 

“You’ve never heard of peanut butter? It’s been around since the early 1900s!” Ryan spluttered, his face breaking into the first real smile.

“I live in the ocean.” Firth responded flatly. A loud laugh broke the tension in the kitchen. Ryan dipped his knife into the jar and smothered a liberal helping of peanut butter on to each slice before handing Firth his plate. Firth’s nose wrinkled. He watched Ryan pick up his own slice and bite into it with relish. 

The merking sniffed at his toast and took the most ridiculous delicate bite of one corner. He chewed, aware of the boy smirking at him. 

“It is… palatable.” Firth admitted. Ryan laughed, the sound light and oddly wonderful to hear in the close dark kitchen. 

“I’ll make us some tea as well. The bathroom is down the hall if you want to… umm use it.” Ryan said rather dumbly. He tried not to think about the merking bathing naked under the spray.

“Not sure the hot water is going to work though.”

“I do not require washing.” Firth muttered. He looked mildly offended. They stood in each other company, eating the last of their toast and sipping at fresh cups of tea. Ryan jumped again at another boom of thunder.

“The ocean will be rough today. The ferry probably won’t be able to leave the mainland.” Ryan murmured, staring out the dark window into the pouring rain.

“It is highly unlikely.” Firth agreed. Ryan shot him a shrewd look.

“You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?” Ryan asked, nodding his head towards the window pane. 

“My kind do not control the weather.” Firth said tartly. 

“Even you have to admit this is… convenient though.” Ryan said pointedly. Firth raised an eyebrow.

“A storm is ideal for our search?” Ryan rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not but it will prevent anyone from interfering.” He said. Firth looked into the driving rain for a long moment. 

“Perhaps it is the island’s way of assisting us.” The king reflected.

“Fat lot of good that will do us if we can’t find that damn book. There must be somewhere we are missing!” Ryan said, rinsing his plate and mug in the sink.

“There must be a location outside of this dwelling that the book would be considered safe.” Firth suggested. Ryan shook his head.

“That’s just it though. We left in a hurry. The only other place that mum could go to is her work and that is the other end of the island. She had to have placed it somewhere either in the house or nearby...” Ryan paused, his hand lingering on the tap as a nasty thought crossed his mind.

“What is it?” Firth said, striding forward to better see his face. Ryan bit his lip. 

“There is somewhere she could have gone.” He said slowly but then he stopped. 

“Where?” Ryan glanced at the king’s face. He very much doubted the merman knew his birth mother lived. 

“My mother’s house.” He said flatly. Firth scowled.

“Are we not in your mothers house?” The king growled. Ryan shook his head.

“No, my birthmother’s house. She’s just down the road from here.” Ryan sighed, preparing for the wave of rage he expected to wash over him from the other man. It never came though. 

"Your mother lives?" Firth said, his voice quiet and breathy.

"If you can call it that." Ryan responded bitterly. The merking studied him.

"You undoubtably resent that you were not able to stay with her without us finding you?" He asked. A loud bark of harsh laughter left Ryan's throat before he could clamp it down.

"Yeah, no. I only found out recently that she is my birth mother and she certainly has never wanted anything to do with me. She's completely crazy and hates my guts. She threw a brick at me once when I was about eight." Ryan growled as he pulled on his thickest coat. Firth stared. 

"But you are her blood. Why does she think ill of you?" Ryan raised a brow.

"My grandfather's theory was that giving me away unhinged her. Apparently, she was never... that stable to begin with but when I was taken and my father left, she went off the deep end so to speak." Ryan explained uncomfortably. An expression crossed the king's face that could have been pity. 

"It doesn't matter. Alice is my mother, even if she didn't give birth to me. I had a great childhood and I love my home on this island. Nothing that has happened has changed that. I grew up here and I have no intention of leaving once this is all over." Ryan put his hand on the door handle. Long fingers coiled around his bicep and turned him around. He looked up at the stoic feature and milky grey eyes. 

"You intend to continue living here?" Firth murmured, unable to hide his own disbelief. 

"Yes." Ryan said firmly. Firth shook his head, stunned.

"You don't want me to I suppose." Ryan murmured, realising that the merking could very well want to demand that he leave. Where would he go if he couldn't live here by the roaring see and black seagrass? Nowhere else would ever feel like home. 

"No. No, I don't want to force you to go." Firth said quietly. The two men stood looking at each other for a long silent moment, getting in that moment a surreal sort of connection. The collar around Ryan's neck felt oddly warm and heavy and he saw Firth's eyes flick down to it briefly. He was still holding onto Ryan's arm.

"We should go." Ryan said, breaking the silence. Firth nodded, releasing him with reluctance. Skin prickling, Ryan turned back to the door and opened it. 

The noise of the storm crashed down on them. He was glad he didn't worry about an umbrella. It would have been laughably inadequate. The rain was coming down so hard and thick Ryan could barely see four feet in front of him. He squinted into the down pour. 

"This way." He shouted though his voice was almost immediately muted and twisted by the storm. He turned left but really; he wasn't given much choice as that was the way the wind was shunting him. Twice he nearly went down as the mud slicked road threatened to steal his footing out from under him. Only Firth's strong grip on the back of his now sopping jacket preventing him falling. Every now and again he saw slivers of light coming from occupied houses with only partly covered windows. Everything else was shifting blankets of water and darkness. 

The walk was both rapid and disorientating. As they trudged on, Ryan's head spun. How much did Debra know about everything that had happened? Was she heavily involved or could she know next to nothing? He was sure they had reached the right house though. As they went up the flooded garden path, Ryan called back over his shoulder;

"Let me do the talking!" For whatever good it was about to do but at least Ryan's face would be familiar. Ryan raised his fist and pounded on the door. For several seconds he dreaded that they may not have heard him. Surely, they were home? Where else could the sisters be? He knocked again, louder, his knuckles hurting from the icy water and solid timber. Finally, he saw a hallway light come on and the door swung open.

"Ryan!?" Debra stood in her doorway, her face white as chalk and her fingers gripping the door frame for support. 

"We need to come in." Ryan said in a hard voice. He took a step forward and the woman took a stumbling step backwards as they invaded her doorstep. 

"Ryan, what is going on?! Why are you here!?" Her voice was high with fright and shock. 

"My mother gave you a book. I'm here to pick it up." Ryan said flatly. 

"A book? What book! Ryan, your mother said you had gone to the mainland. Why are you back here?" Her mouth went slack as she caught sight of Firth.

“Who-”

“Can we come in?” Ryan asked whilst still pressing forward.

“Well yes, of course but-”

“Thanks.” Firth followed him inside and Ryan made a point of closing the front door.

“What on earth could force you to be out in this weather? And who’s your friend?” Debra was wearing a rather frilly red and white apron decorated with strawberries. The house smelt of dry timber and baking. 

“A couple of days ago, mum came here in a hurry and gave you a book. Maybe she wrapped it or something but it is a book.” She was twisting the apron in her hands and not meetings his gaze.

"Ryan, I'm very sorry but now is not a very good time. Dania hasn't been feeling to well lately and I've got my hands full here." She said, her eyes darting off over her shoulder.

"What needs doing? Perhaps I can help whilst you get the book." His offer might have been friendly if it wasn't for the hard tone he was using. He had never used it on his childhood teacher before but Ryan was thoroughly done with being mucked about. He took another step forward and she took another back.

"I, well... Let me get you both some towels." She said, her shoulders slumping in open resignation. She bustled down the hallway. Firth sniffed audibly.

"I don't like this place. It smells of death." The king said. Ryan looked at him. 

"What do you mean?" He whispered in case Debra had lingered at the end of the hall. 

"It smells of old magic and blood." An icy shiver slithered down Ryan's spine but before he could ask the merman to elaborate, Debra was back. She thrust a towel into his arms. All the towels in the world probably wouldn't help him now but he quickly dried his hair and dabbed down his clothes to stop them from heavily dripping all over the carpet. 

"Come into the kitchen where its warm." Debra said reluctantly. They followed her into an old kitchen complete with dull lacy curtains and several brown pot plants on the window sill. The style hadn't been updated in what looked like forty years. Ryan went to sit down on one the rickety stools.

"Not there!" Debra said loudly, her hands flying up in alarm. Ryan stopped short.

"I'm sorry, my sister is very particular about the placement of things in the house. Come, you two can sit over here." She said, pulling over two different chairs. 

"Have you always cared for your sister Ma'am?" Firth asked in a rather impressive attempt of gentlemanly manners. She looked at him in a mixture of puzzlement, fear and awe. Firth was still so unnatural with his pale grey eyes, long white hair and hard cut muscles that were disguised poorly under an old tunic that looked like it belonged in a naval museum. 

"Well yes. After pa passed, although probably even before that. My sister had always been of fragile health." Debra said. She went about making tea but nearly dropped the cups in her nervousness. 

"Is something wrong?" Ryan asked, watching her spill milk all over the countertop. She had already forgotten to add teabags. She put the bottle down and looked at him with pleading eyes.

"You mother warned me that you might come. I don't think it’s a good idea that I give that book to you. She was very adamant." 

"Have you read it?" Ryan asked.

"Well, no. Admittedly, I couldn't see what the harm was in a children's story book but your mother must of had her reasons."

"It was written by my father." 

"Your-"

"Did you meet my father?" Ryan cut in. Her eyes started to dart back and forth again, as though looking for a way out. He knew he was scaring her but he was past caring.

"Not particularly. I think I met him once when you were born but he left a long time ago-"

"On a ship." Ryan said mercilessly. 

"After he and my mother made the decision to give me up." He added coldly. 

"I, I think you’re a little confused dear. Alice would never-"

"Alright stop! I'm done with this! I really fucking am." Ryan shouted making her jump. She stared at him in horror, shrinking back against her kitchen cabinets.

"Ryan!" 

"Go. get. the. book." He said. A large hand closed on the back of his neck. It squeezed slightly and some of the fury died away. Firth had stood up, drawing the terrified woman's gaze.

"Ma'am, we have no intention in staying passed our welcome however that item does not belong to you. It did not belong to Alice either. It is the boy's property and you will return or we will search the house until we find it." The king said sternly. Debra tried to pull herself together.

"You can’t make that sort of threat!” 

“Are you going to call the police?” Ryan said with a cold smile. A loud boom of thunder shook the cups on the countertop. No one said anything for a long minute. Somewhere down the corridor came an odd scuttling sound, like dragging bare feet. Debra’s eyes went to the doorway but no one appeared. She seemed to be thinking very fast.

“Alright. Alright, I’ll go get it, just wait here.” She rasped. She put her cup down and hurried away.

“Do you think she’s actually going to get the book?” Ryan growled. Firth seemed to be listening, his head turned.

“I believe so. She doesn’t want us here. I think her fear of us is overriding whatever instructors your mother left.” They waited, both listening hard. Then the sound of footsteps returned and Debra reappeared, the dog-eared old book in her hands. 

Ryan didn’t wait for her to hold it out, he just took it. She looked at him as though she had never met him before. Ryan was beyond caring. As he traced his fingers over the cover, he heard more noise from the corridor. Firth peered over his shoulder as Ryan opened the book. 

“This is it.” Ryan said with relief. Before they could turn a single page, a noise ripped their attention away.

"YOU!" The screech was almost inhuman. They both turned to see a skeletal woman, her hair lank, her eyes popping. She was so thin her bones seemed to be sticking out of her waxy skin. She looked utterly mad. For someone so brittle look, her reflexes were catlike. 

She grabbed the long bread knife from the kitchen countertop and before her sister could stop her, she lunged at Firth.

\--

END

\--


	15. The Islands that Moved

\--

Chapter Fifteen

The Islands that Moved

\--

"You both deserve to die! He would still be alive! He would still be with me!" Dania’s screaming was getting loud and less coherent. Debra had lost control completely, all the colour gone from her face. 

She slashed wildly, the blade arching and catching Firth in the arm. Blood splattered across the kitchen countertop, spots of red against the cream counter. Ryan grabbed a fist full of Firth’s wet shirt and dragged him backward, putting himself between the mad woman and the king. Firth tried to move around Ryan but Debra grabbed hold of the merman’s arm.

"Don't hurt her!" she sobbed.

As Dania brought the knife down again, Ryan leapt sideways, knocking over the stool he'd been sitting on and losing his balance. 

Her eyes narrowed, seeing an opportunity to kill. Firth shook Debra off and dove for the woman's knife hand, grabbing her wrist and twisting it. Her words had become lost in ear-splitting screams as she thrashed like a rabid animal in Firth's grip. Her other hand flew up to gorge the man's eyes. Firth wrenched her around violently to take her off balance. Meanwhile Debra was still shouting her sister’s name. The noise was deafening. 

Ryan got to his feet, his hip tender from where he'd connected with the side of the stool on the way down. It took another savage twist for the woman to finally let go of the knife. It clattered to the ground and Ryan kicked it away. He snatched up the book .

"Let's get out of here!" he yelled. Firth shoved the woman hard into the arms of her crying sister. The two women fell back against the kitchen counter, Dania still violently clawing at the air, desperate to reach either one of the men who fled at speed to the door. Ryan wrenched it open. He shoved the book under his shirt, pulled his wet jacket back on and ran back out into the storm.

Adrenaline and violent winds helped carry them down the slick road. Ryan looked back several times into the driving downpour to see if they were being followed. The water stung his eyes and burned his ears with cold. He was drenched through to the marrow by the time they reached the stone house. They entered and Ryan slammed the door behind them and locked it. 

He worked the book free from his shirt. It was damp but thankfully not ruined. As he struggled out of his jacket and shirt, he headed for the fire. He placed the book down nearby to dry and toed off his heavy water filled shoes. He peeled off his wet jeans and grabbed a pair of loose sweat pants from his room. It was as he came back that he caught sight of Firth.

"Shit, you're bleeding!" Firth had removed the tattered shirt, blood leaking sluggishly from a cut on his ribs and another on his arm. His face was scratched and one eyes was red. 

"I'm-"

"Stay there, I'll grab the first aid kit." When he turned, Firth moved to follow him.

"Sit down!" he barked. The king sat submissively. Ryan marched into the kitchen and retrieved the little first aid kit from its home under the sink. 

"Should we not just read the book? This isn't-" Ryan's eyes flashed as his gaze shot up to the man's face. 

"In a minute." Ryan growled and the merman seemed to think it best to let the human have his way.

"I don't know if these need stitches," Ryan said in a worried voice, studying the cuts as he gently wiped the antiseptic over the one on the man's rib cage. 

"I heal quickly," the merking murmured. 

"Lucky you," Ryan grumbled. 

"Hold still," he added. He took hold of Firth's wrist and gently turned the man's arm over, studying the long cut that ran up his bicep. It didn't look deep. He wiped at it in long strokes. Firth shifted around, making it easier to reach. The room flashed brightly for a moment as another streak of lightning lit up the blackened sky outside. 

He looked into the man's face, at his almost elven features. He poured more antiseptic on a fresh cloth and began to gently wipe at the scratches along the man's cheek, his left hand gently holding Firth's head in place with a palm. Thankfully the woman’s ungroomed nails hadn’t managed to hit Firth’s eyes. 

"And now you've met my dear loving mother," Ryan muttered as he worked. To his credit, Firth didn't wince, protest or move away. It was several long minutes before Ryan realized he was effectively cradling the man's face in his hands. 

He stared into the king's eyes, feeling his heart give a hard thump in his chest. In his dreams, those eyes had often looked glassy and white, like a dead fish left to rot on the shale beech. Now the irises looked like pale polished silver. 

"I think the cuts are clean." Firth said as he took the cloth from Ryan's immobile hand.

"Ah, right." Ryan said, feeling his face redden. Firth took Ryan's jaw between forefinger and thumb and shifted, leaning in. To stunned to move, Ryan shivered when cool lips brushed against his own. They tasted of salt. The kiss was chaste and gentle. Ryan felt his muscles relax. A ridiculous little sigh escaped his chest and Firth pressed in a little closer. When they drew apart, Ryan's eyes were wide.

"You kissed me again," Ryan said, stating the obvious. 

"You didn't pull away again," Firth responded. Maybe it was near death experience or the stress of their situation but Ryan decided he probably wasn't thinking straight. When Firth leant in, Ryan met him half way. The kiss was a lot less chaste this time but still gentle, a tongue tracing his bottom lip. Ryan opened his mouth, a soft sound rumbling from him. 

The room suddenly felt a lot warmer. His fingers traced over the smooth skin of the taller man, felt where muscles gave way to the bumps of old scars. Firth's hand travelled down. It brushed along Ryan's throat and nudged the collar. The unwelcome reminder of it jolted Ryan out of his daze. He pulled back, panting softly. 

"Most people just say 'thank you' after getting medical treatment," he rasped. 

"You stood between us. She could have killed you," Firth murmured. He looked unwilling to let go but his hold stayed light. 

"Wouldn't be the first time. Remember the brick story?" Ryan was trying for a joke but his heart was still jumping hard in his chest. 

"I'm sorry." In that moment, he thought the man really meant it too. He wasn’t really sure what it was Firth was apologising for, his insane mother, his dead father, the curse he was now a part of or the kiss they had just shared. Ryan smiled and reluctantly detangled himself from Firth's hold.

"It's okay." He busied himself with cleaning up the bloody clothe and stoking the fire back to a full roar. 

"Does my touch disgust you that much?" Firth muttered. Ryan nearly dropping the log he was holding. His head whipped around.

"Do I look disgusted to you?" he spluttered, still very much aware of how his cheeks were flushed, his lips were wet and his eyes were still over bright.

"Then why-"

"Firth." Ryan stood up and looked at him.

"I think we can both agree that this situation is not... ideal. I don't just mean because of the curse. This," He pointed to the collar around his neck and continued

"This is affecting you in some way. I don't want anything we do to be on account of some spell that's affecting your faculties. That's really fucked up." 

"This is about consent?" Firth asked. He looked dumbfounded. Ryan threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Of course, it is! I can’t be comfortable doing anything with you knowing there’s a chance that you would never have kissed me without the influence of magic!" The sound of pounding rain filled the room for several long moments.

"You truly are one of the strangest humans I've ever met." the merman said. 

"Yeah... how many have you met that you had an actual conversation with that didn't involve weapons or death threats?" Ryan asked with a slightly lopsided smile. The king imitated it, his lips twisting.

"Point taken." 

\--

Ryan made more tea to help warm them up and dragged a chair closer to the fire. His hands were shaking slightly when he picked the book up off the hearth. It was still damp but warmed from the fire. Very carefully, he peeled it apart.

"This is going to sound strange but I think he wrote this for me, in a way. Its written as a kind of children's storybook." Ryan murmured as he flicked through a couple of chapters. 

"He knew he would be dead long before you were grown," Firth said, his face etched in what could be regret. Ryan nodded woodenly then he frowned.

"Can I ask you something that's been bothering me?" Firth gave a small nod.

"This book and everyone who I have heard talk about the battle between the pirates and the merman has made it sound as though it happened a long time ago. But I'm only eighteen. That's not like... colonel times." Ryan said, looking up from the decorative pages.

"The curse kept us bound to the island. Our only means of escape was to choose death," the king said cryptically.

"Sorry, I'm not following. Are you saying that you've stopped aging?" Ryan asked.

"Yes. My people and those pirates who did not die in the battle. We could not leave the seas around the islands but we could not grow old there either." Ryan blinked, his lips parting.

"I believe that was why your father eventually sort solace in your mother. He had been without human contact for a long time." Ryan sat, his brain sluggishly turning over this new information. The book had quite a few pictures and several short poems. It took a while to flick through to a promising looking page. Ryan paused, his eyes widening as he read.

“Listen to this,” he said, angling the book so he could have more light.

“Pride is a fickle thing. The little prince would not go home to the sea and he would not let my men stay. He struck like a shark and the first man fell. The other pirates let out a cry of anger and joined the fray. I yelled for them to stop but no one would listen. I drew my blade to help my brothers as another of the creatures came from the ocean. We fought until we were all exhausted and none the winner. We took our injured man and retreated to the village...

"This cannot be correct. This doesn't talk about the bullet wound that killed our prince," the king's eyes blazed as he stared down hard at the book in Ryan's lap. Ryan flipped the page, scanning it. Some of the anger ebbed as he saw the colour drain from the boy's face.

"I think I know why." Ryan rasped. Firth leant forward, trying to see.

"What?" 

“We sat and talked for hours. Surely, we could find a way to share the islands we reasoned. It was then that we heard a noise. We looked out the window and a yell ran out.

"Monster! A devil's monster!" The young merman ran from the inn before we could stop him and half the village gave chase. Old man Jenkins took his pistol and shot the creature as it ran. As it hit the water, the ocean roared and the sun vanished behind clouds. We knew then, that something evil had taken hold. We got back on our ships but the winds would not take us from the islands...” 

"Jenkins..." Ryan whispered.

"The name is familiar?" 

"Debra and Dania's family name is Jenkins." They looked at each other.

"So, what, my great, great, great grandfather started all this by shooting a merman after he mistook him for a sea monster?" Ryan asked. Firth looked somehow diminished in his chair.

"We have been at war with the wrong people," Firth sounded wounded.

"And we still don't know how to break the curse." They sat together. 

"I'll come back with you" Ryan murmured. Firth looked up.

"I said I would even if I didn't have any answers," he said.

"It would not be safe. I will need to inform my people what I have discovered," the king said.

"And I'm still related to the murderer. Just... the wrong side of the family," Ryan summarised. The merman nodded. 

“Many of my people may imagine that killing the last of the line will end the curse,” murmured the king. 

"But, won't you... won't being separated kill you?" Ryan croaked. His stomach was twisting in knots. He didn't want this man to die. 

"Most likely. Perhaps it will be a just payment for the decisions I have made,"

"That's bullshit! None of this was on purpose. This proves it!" Ryan shouted, shaking the book. 

"You couldn't have known."

"And I didn't try to find out the truth. I just killed as many as I could," Firth replied blandly. Ryan fell silent again. He got up and joined Firth on the couch. As his shoulder pressed against the other man, he realised the taller was shaking slightly. 

"I'm coming with you. That is my decision," Ryan whispered. Firth hesitated, then put an arm around him, drawing him closer to share warmth. They sat in the dark of the house, watching the flames in the grate, apparently done with talking. 

Outside, the thunder rumbled on.

\--

END

\--


	16. The Son of a Pirate

\--

Chapter Sixteen

The Son of a Pirate 

\--

It took Ryan awhile to work out where he was. He and Firth had fallen asleep on the couch together or rather, he had fallen asleep against the taller man. The man's arm was wrapped around his waist, warm and heavy. As Ryan looked blearily up into the king's face, he saw Firth staring solemnly out the window. There was weak greyish sunlight peeking through the window. 

"The storm has passed." Firth murmured as Ryan shifted. 

"We should go then," Ryan said as he sat up. He was a little stiff and sore from having laid awkwardly for so long. The merking glanced down at him.

"The ferries will be able to leave the mainland now. It's not safe for us to be here." Ryan stood and headed for the kitchen. His mouth and throat were dry. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it down. He nearly choked on it and his hand shook the glass until the water dribbled down his front. He was nervous and a little scared. Neither of them had eaten other than the toast that early morning but the thought of food made him feel queasy. 

"Let me just leave a note and we can go." His voice cracked a little as he placed the empty glass in the sink. He avoided looking into Firth's face as he grabbed a note pad and pen. He looked down at it, his hand trembling. 

What should he write? 

That he was sorry? 

That he loved them? 

He tried to swallow around a hard lump in his throat. Distantly, he wondered if his father had felt this same level of resigned panic. Had he known that he was returning to his ship that morning to be taken by the mer-people? 

He scrawled a few sentences. It wasn't much but he didn't think he could have expressed everything he wanted to say even if he the next twenty years to come up with something. 

"Are you sure you want to leave?" Firth asked. Ryan left the paper and came back to him without answering.

"We should take the book. If nothing else, it’s another written account," Ryan murmured. The merking nodded.

"I can be-spell it to repel water once we get to the ocean," Firth murmured. Ryan snorted.

"Or I can put it in a couple of ziplock bags. No offence meant but your spells aren't exactly working as they should at the moment. Knowing our luck, the spell would back fire and it would be you that would repel water," Ryan said blandly. Firth's face twisted into a grimace and he hissed something in another language. Ryan didn't need to understand said language to recognise the venomous tone as something that was probably very offensive. He gave a painful grin.

"That's another thing to add to my bucket list. You can teach me how to swear in mermish," he called as he went back into the kitchen to grab a few ziplock bags. 

"I am not teaching a human our language," Firth said flatly, coming around the corner holding the book. Ryan swiped it from him.

"Really, we're back to that? Come on, I'll teach you how to swear, some really good contemporary ones. All your mer friends will be jealous," Ryan teased, carefully wiggling the book inside the first layer of plastic. Firth watched him with a bemused expression.

"No," the man said. Ryan snorted, sealing the bag shut before placing another over the top just in case.

"Fine. Your loss." He handed the book back to Firth. 

"Let's go," Ryan said, the amusement dying away. 

"At least when we get back, we can eat something other than toast," he added with another weak attempt at humour. Firth’s face twisted into something that could have been pity. 

“Ryan-”

“Heh, I was almost starting to think you didn’t know my name,” Ryan chuckled. He tensed as strong arms coiled around him, his face pressed into the crook of the taller man’s neck. Ryan couldn’t stop his body from shaking. He took several painfully deep breathes, the air catching sharp in his lungs on each inhale. 

“I’m okay,” he rasped. The scent of king reminded him of the black stone beeches with is thick build-up of salt, wet sea grass and wet weathered stone. He leant against Firth, his own arms coming up around the king’s waist, following the contour of the man’s lower back. The king acted as his anchor, holding him steady as his racing heart beat slowed. He reluctantly stepped back, missing the body heat of the other instantly. He cleared his throat and headed for the front door without another word. 

The world outside dripped dismally. The storms may have cleared but the sky was still full of bulging grey clouds and the weak sunlight had to claw its way between them. There was no other living soul outside yet with the exception of a few bedraggled looking seagulls winging their way further inland. It was still relatively early. Ryan reached for a jacket, then realised he probably wasn't going to need it given he would be underwater in less than fifteen minutes. He left the house and locked the door after Firth. 

The king was still watching him with concern as though he thought Ryan might completely loose it and run off screaming. It wasn't an unfair assessment. Ryan placed the house keys under the front door mat and headed down the slick cobblestones. They set off side by side into the morning. The storm had done some damage. There was plenty of flattened plants and huge pools of water. 

Despite the trepidation about what was to come, he couldn't help but notice the beauty of it all. The watery sunlight turning the pools into reflective silver mirrors, the dark green grass juxtaposing the pale muddy brown road and neat cottages of stone and timber scattered about along the landscape. 

He glanced over and saw Firth staring at him avidly. The man had his hand raised as though reaching for him. Without thinking, Ryan took the man's hand and started walking purposefully towards the nearest beech. He listened to the roaring sea and wind howling passed them as they walked. Ryan hoped he was doing the right thing, that if he was going to... go, then that his passing would at least break the curse. 

To soon they came to the pebbled path that led down. They called it a beech but the sharp jumble of stones and kelp made up the beech mouth was unfriendly. There was no soft silky sand here or anywhere else on the island for that matter. 

"Ready?" he asked. Firth's jaw was pinched tight as though he were trying to swallow something sour or possibly rotting. 

"Come on then," Ryan murmured, tugging him down the first few steps. 

"Stop!"

The shout cut through the air like a boom of thunder, the emotion reverberating in that one word somewhere between rage, agony, terror and disbelief. It turned their heads. Alice stood on the top of the hill, looking down at them. 

The situation had suddenly become much worse on account of the fact that she was holding a gun. It wasn't a little hand gun either. It was a fucking shotgun and he had absolutely no idea where she would have even gotten it! She was pointing it down at them, or rather, she was pointing it at Firth.

"Ryan step away from him. I'm not going to let him take you sweetie, it's going to be okay." Ryan had never seen such an expression on his mother's face. Even from this distance, he could see the dark circles under her blood shot eyes. 

"Mum, stop!" Ryan tried to move towards her but Firth's grip tightened painfully on his hand, drawing back to his side. Ryan shot the man a hard glare.

"Firth, let go." He didn't.

"Let go of my son!" Alice shouted, her voice rising. 

"He is not your son," Firth's response came out hard and flat. Her eyes narrowed and barrel of the gun shifted slightly higher towards Firth’s head. 

“How dare you. I raised that boy; he is mine and we love him!” she snarled. Firth’s jaw clenched.

“It was not the place of the boy’s father to make that decision,” the king barked back.

"He told me Ryan would be safe. If we left, you would grow up and have a normal life. That's what he wanted," Alice said, voice faltering. Before Firth could protest, Ryan elbowed the man hard in the ribs to shut him up before he made things worse.

“Mum, you did raise me and I love you but I’m not a child anymore,” Ryan voice cracked a little but he tried to keep it steady. He backed up towards the pounding waves, nudging Firth to make him move.

“Stop! You can’t leave with him. We’ll never see you again!” she yelled. Her hands clenched on the gun and for one terrifying moment she looked as though she would pull the trigger. Ryan flung his arms out, trying to keep Firth behind him.

“I may be the son of a pirate but I’ll be damned if I let any more blood be shed over me and my family,” Ryan shouted. He stood between Firth and Alice, his arms out, his eyes blazing. His mother was ghostly pale. Her eyes were blood shot from crying and her hair was a real mess. The wind tore at them, roaring like something undeniably large and angry.

"You can't go with him. I don't want you to go with him," she sobbed and Ryan felt something inside him fracture. He had never wanted to cause this pain to people around him, to the family who raised him. It didn't matter they weren't related by blood, they had raised him, loved him and taught him right from wrong. 

"Sometimes doing what is right goes against doing what we want," he said calmly. It was strange, but he did feel calm. He still felt that pain, the fear of the unknown and the sadness of leaving his family but it seemed distant, as though he was viewing it from the other side of a metaphorical window. It wasn't important right now. 

"This is about resetting an imbalance in the world. People took something from them, so they need to take someone in return."

"But why does it have to be you?" Alice shouted, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"Because I choose to go. It has to be freely given," and as Ryan says this, the statement feels right. He didn't know how he knew, but this was how it needed to be. 

"We are leaving now and you're not going to shoot us." At least he prayed she wouldn't. The merking tried to interject.

"Ryan-"

"Shut up and let me do this. Start walking, I'm going to cover you," Ryan hissed. This was hard enough without Firth being a stubborn asshole.

The barrel of the gun shook violently as Alice's aim wavered. 

"Ryan, move!" The words were shouted not just by Alice but Firth as well.

"No!" He felt a hand on his arm trying to wrench him to one side but he would not be shifted. The world slowed. A drop of water could be the rotation of the earth. The roar of the ocean became a distant muted breeze. The sight of the black cliffs, shifting seagrass, squawking gulls and endless ocean melted away at the edges of his vision as he stared up at his mother and the down the barrel of the gun which would almost certainly kill him at such close range. 

He would not be moved. 

With a slowness that could melt the polar ice caps, Alice lowered the gun. She shook violently from head to toe and she sobbed as though she had already pulled the trigger. The gun fell to the pebbled beach. 

It was over. 

The world suddenly shifted forward. The wind fell away on all side and the sun ripped a hole through the oceans of grey clouds above. Firth looked up at them in open alarm but the sudden silence did not shock Ryan as much as what happened next.

The collar around his throat fell away like wet sand. His hands went up to grab it but it was just... gone. He turned and stared at Firth; his eyes as wide as the king's. 

"The collar. What does this mean?" Ryan croaked. Firth reaching a shaking hand up to touch the soft bare skin of his neck. 

"It can't be," the merking mumbled. Firth took a step back. Then another.

"Firth, what-" but the man had already turned and running to the surf. A thrill of horror swept through Ryan like an electric shock and without thinking he raced after the man. It was only once the ice water hit his legs that he remembered that he would no longer be able to breathe underwater. He shouted the king's name but his only response was a brief glimpse of a large silver fin, before he was gone. 

He stood in shock as painful needling cold slowing spread up his calves from the freezing water. He could hear his mother still calling his name and he stumbled back. He glanced into the powerful waves and foam but there was no sign of the merman. Ryan went to his mother's side.

\--

It took a long time to get Alice into some semblance of calm. Ryan took her very slowly back to the house, the gun tucked uncomfortably under his arm. The house was still warm from the fire he had lit in the grate earlier that morning. She was so pale and shaken. Her grip on his arm was vice like. In a moment of revulsion, he was reminded painfully of Dania and her gaunt face and long claws. He carefully eased his mother into a chair and made her a cup of very strong sweet tea, stirring in a shot of baileys into the dark liquid.

After bundling her tight in a blanket and changing his pants to pair that weren't wet from the ocean, he sat down on the couch. They had sat in silence together for a long time. She seemed to be in shock and Ryan didn’t know what to say to help. It felt like nearly an hour before the front door banged open, making them both jump. Ryan's heart gave a hard thump in in his chest as he leapt to his feet but the figure that stood in the doorway had grey hair, not white.

Grandpa Jo swept into the house, Tyler on his heels and looking every one of his years old. He saw Ryan and swept in up into a brutal, rib cracking hug. Ryan tried to garble out some sort of reassurance but his lungs weren't working. As soon as his grandfather let go, Tyler launched himself at his older brother, driving him back onto the couch.

"Is it over?" Grandpa Jo asked hesitatingly.

"I don't know," Ryan murmured honestly.

Jo looked over at the kitchen counter where the gun sat, his eye brows lifting. 

"Did you...?" he rasped.

"No. Everyone is okay," Ryan murmured because his mother still looked nearly catatonic with the mornings events. He didn’t say anything else, just snatched it up and took it away before Tyler caught sight of it. More cups of tea and a plate of biscuits later and Alice seemed to come back to herself a little. She still jumped at sudden noises and seemed to need to keep Ryan in view at all times.

Once again, Ryan was desperately grateful that Tyler seemed to be to young to understand what was going. His little brother was delighted to be home and have everyone with him. Grandpa Jo put on some cartoons for him to watch. The television murmured on in the background.

“He went back to the ocean,” Ryan explained. He was surprised by how much the statement oddly hurt. He felt abandoned. Which was ridiculous. If the collar was gone that must mean the spell Firth had placed on his was broken. Firth no longer needed to be near him for his own sanity. Was that all that had happened though? Why hadn’t he come back and what would happen now?

“We need some groceries for dinner,” Jo said. Alice nodded.

“I need to unpack our things,” she said in a hollow sounding voice. 

“Do you want some help?” Ryan asked her. She nodded and stood. Jo looked from one to the other, clearly still very worried but there wasn’t much to do but give them time and space. 

“I’ll be back shortly then.” Grandpa Jo said uncomfortably. He took some bags from under the sink and left through the front door. Alice glanced over at Tyler but the boy was still engrossed in his movie so she left him there and went to his bedroom. Ryan followed timidly. He watched uncomfortably as she unpacked some clothes from a suit case without once looking at him. 

“Mum?” She didn’t reply. She tossed a few of Tyler’s shirts in the laundry hamper. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

Nothing.

“Do you hate me?” he asked into the silence of the room. Alice dropped the shirt she was holding and flung herself on her son. His arms came up and he hugged her tight. She was nearly a whole head shorter than him these days.

“Of course not,” she sobbed. His own throat was sore and he didn’t quite trust himself to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“But I don’t regret it. I regret that it would have hurt you guys but I don’t regret leaving,” Ryan added. She pulled back a little, her hands still twisted into the cotton of Ryan’s shirt.

“When did you get so grownup?” she croaked, her smile weak and watery. 

“Come on, let’s get this finished so we can make some food. I’m starving.”

\--

Ryan sat on his bed, staring out at the dark night and pitching sea in the distance. If he squinted, he could almost swear there were extra islands out there. It was late, almost midnight but he couldn’t sleep even though his eyes itched. He wanted to know what had happened to the merking. The family had eaten dinner in a subdued mood and gone to bed early. Tyler had nearly fallen asleep at the dinner table, finally able to have some peace and quiet from his cousin’s yelling.

Alice had not found out about Grandpa Jo’s plan or that he had helped Ryan get back to the island. Ryan intended to keep it that way. When Ryan had finally turned his phone back on, he found half a dozen missed calls from Trent and even a couple from Caitlyn. He had sent them both a text, apologising for not contacting them, saying that his phone had been broken and he had been on the mainland with his aunt and uncle. 

They were going to meet up tomorrow. It was so strange that the rest of the world had just trundled along, normal and perfectly unbothered by pirates or mermaids. It was then that he had remembered with an uncomfortable jolt that Firth still had his father’s book with him. It was his last link to his biological father and he might never see it again. Ryan sighed and leant back against his pillows. Well. If nothing else, all of this would make an insane story for when he was himself an old man. 

Suddenly, he straightened sharply. Something had flashed way out in the distance, catching the edge of his peripheral vision. Was something out there?

He narrowed his eyes as he stared out at the hill. Surely something had moved? He was sure something had moved. Without hesitating, he pulled on his jeans, jacket and shoes and stealthily treaded out of his bedroom and to the back door. The house was perfectly quiet except for the occasional rumbling snores from his grandfather. Expertly closing the outside door in silence, he broke into a run as soon as he hit the footpath. He ran flat out right down to the beach. 

Firth stood on the pebbles; his silver hair almost luminous in the moonlight. He was still unearthly pale, still tall and still imposing but he looked decades younger with the large smile across his face. 

“You came back,” Ryan panted. 

“I did. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner,” the king replied, coming to meet him. Ryan gave a faint grin.

“Not going to lie, I did start to wonder if you would,” Ryan confessed, voicing the heavy weight that had sat in his stomach when he had watched Firth disappear into the ocean without him.

“So, is it gone, the spell you put on me?” he asked. The merman grin grew wider.

“Not just my spell. All of it.” His voice cracked slightly, as though his words went past his own understanding. Ryan blinked, his brain chugging to keep up.

“All of it? Wait, you don’t mean… the curse? It’s gone?” he rasped. 

“It’s gone!” Firth lunged forward, wrapping powerful arms around Ryan and hoisting him into the air as though he were a stuffed toy. Ryan let out a noise somewhere between a yelp and laugh.

“But how?” 

“We aren’t sure yet. Den is still studying our records,” Firth admitted. He put Ryan back on his feet but didn’t let go of him. They stared, transfixed at each other for several long moments, just absorbing the happy calm and the roar of the waves. Ryan didn’t really want to step back away from the man.

"I think..." Ryan started slowly.

"I think it because I offered to be a willing sacrifice. It had to be given, not taken, to reverse the original curse," he finished. Firth studied him and gave a low nod.

"You are probably right."

“What now?” Ryan asked, his eyes fixing onto the pale lips of the taller man.

“Do you still doubt my faculties?” Firth said, a slightly wicked twist to his lips.

“Well the spell is gone proper, isn’t it?” Ryan asked, his breathes shortening.

“Yes.”

“Then I guess not,” he said, grinning. Firth gave a growl, the sound of it rising goose flesh along Ryan’s arms. It was the only warning he got before the taller man rushed him. Cold fingers slid under Ryan’s shirt and ran along his belly. Ryan didn’t hesitate. He buried his hands in Firth’s long hair and dragged the man’s head down for a hard kiss. 

There was sharpness to the other’s teeth and Ryan had to slow as not to cut himself on the lethal canines. They pressed closer together, the water still clinging to Firth’s body dampening Ryan’s clothes. The night was oddly still and warm. There was no blustery cold gales or icy nip to the air. 

Ryan was grateful for this as his jacket was shoved off his shoulders and his shirt was worked down his arms. He felt completely swept up and under by this man. He sighed into the kiss, tasting the familiar sea salt and rain. His jacket and shirt were thrown down on a small hillock of thick grasses, thankfully above the pebbled beach line. Ryan sat down heavily, yanking Firth down with him. The king willingly covered his body with his own. 

Hands slid over hard sleek muscle, Ryan groaning as they met in another kiss. They took their time with each other, Ryan exploring shyly at first before becoming bolder. He ran his hands over everything he could reach, feeling old battle scars and the faintest impression of scales as his fingertips brushed over the hips and swell of the king’s ass. Firth growled, nipping at his lower lip and tracing his tongue. 

They were rubbing together like two touched starved people desperate for their first contact in decades. He tore away with a gasp as Firth ground down against his trapped cock. Some semblance of common sense came back into in the few moments he had to chase oxygen.

“Wait,” he panted. Firth drew back, his eyes liquid silver and half closed. Ryan shivered at their intensity. 

“As much as this feels incredibly, I’m… I’m really not keen on doing this raw,” he said in a tight, slightly embarrassed voice. Firth chuckled softly and drew something out of the makeshift pants he was wearing. Ryan stared at it.

“So, you were just, what, carrying around a vial of oil with you? How many humans do you fuck by moonlight?” Ryan teased. Firth snorted and leant in for a bite. Ryan tossed his head back, offering more of his neck to the sharp teeth. 

“Just one human in particular,” Firth purred. He seemed to sober then and reached a hand out to stroke Ryan’s jawline with one thumb.

“We don’t have to go any further though. This wasn’t meant to be so… unexpected,” Firth said, his voice gentling. Ryan smiled, leaning into the touch.

“You are still wearing to many clothes, undress,” Ryan said as a way of reply and tugging on the rough fabric. Firth raised an eyebrow.

“Am I now?” the king said, amused. Ryan reached up and bit roughly into the man’s throat, sucking hard. Firth gasped, hips bucking.

“Shut up and do as your told,” Ryan snapped. The merman stared down at him, apparently transfixed. Voice rough with desire, the king gave a little dip of his head.

“As you command.” Firth worked the old trousers down his slim hips. They looked particularly woebegone and Ryan couldn’t be wonder what century they were from or why the merman had even bothered to bring them. He yanked them out of Firth’s hands and tossed them somewhere into the dark. Firth laughed and the sound was like music. Ryan buried his fingers into the cascade of white and silver hair that tumbled down over the man’s shoulders.

“You are so gorgeous,” Ryan breathed. Firth stared down at him wide eyed.

“I could say the same,” the king replied softly. As they met for another heated kiss, Ryan was worked out of his own jeans. His cock stood straight up now that it was freed from the confines of the material. Firth retrieved the little bottle of oil and uncorked it.

“Are you sure?” Firth asked.

“Yes, I trust you.” And it was true. He did. Firth looked down at him as though Ryan cradled all the secrets of the universe, an expression of wonder and bewilderment on his face. They shifted, Firth settling himself more securely and dripping the oil out into one palm.

The first finger was an odd invasion, slick from oil and warm. Ryan shivered and mewled, spreading his legs a little wider. It felt dirty, feeling the oil drizzle down his ass and pool under him. It wasn’t until the second finger worked into him that his nails dug into Firth’s shoulders. If the man was bothered by it, he didn’t say as much. He just continued to press warm wet kisses along Ryan’s face and neck. 

Ryan laid his head, groaning as his body was stretched out. Gods it felt good. It stung and he was a little afraid of how he was going to cope with something much bigger but he was willing to have a good go. His cock was leaking onto his belly. He brushed his fingers over it, feeling the length jump. Stroking it helped distracted from the discomfort of the stretch as Firth prepared him. A harsh cry escaped as those long fingers brushed what had to be his prostate. His hips bucked.

“Here?” Firth purred, rubbing again. Ryan’s gutted cry was his response. The king worked his fingers in and out, careful to play with that spot every now and again until Ryan was practically writhing.

“You’re evil,” Ryan whimpered. Firth chuckled and slowly withdrew his hand. There was the sound of a cork leaving a bottle again and Ryan tried not to tense. He knew what was coming next.

“Hold onto me,” Firth whispered. Ryan nodded, panting softly as his legs were eased onto either side of Firth’s hips. As the man pressed slowly into his body, Ryan groaned with equal amounts of pleasure and pain. Slowly the man worked to tease his sore entrance into taking his cock. 

Ryan groaned at the wonderful, to full feeling as the king came to rest, balls deep in his throbbing ass. He had a death grip on Firth’s shoulders but his own cock was still shockingly hard. Firth let out a slow breath. He started with a gentle rocking, allowing Ryan’s to adjust to his girth.

“Alright?” Firth murmured, nosing at Ryan’s ear. Ryan nodded.

“Yeah,” he answered, a little breathless. Firth took the shell of Ryan’s ear into his mouth and sucked it, making the body under him squirm and clench. It was a slow build. Heat pooled tightly in Ryan’s core. He let out a yelp at the first proper hit to his prostate, his hips bucking so hard that Firth nearly lost his balance over him. The merking gave another breathy laugh and rocked back, taking hold of Ryan’s legs and easing them around his waist. Then he really began to move. 

Ryan cried out, staring up at the night sky in amazement. His body was thrumming. It didn’t dare stroke himself, his body already wound so tight he was sure he would go over if he did. His toes curled as Firth picked a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep and hard into Ryan. Ryan loved it, not caring to keep his voice down. Firth placed a sharp kiss to his lips and Ryan tasted blood; his lip nicked by a sharp tooth. He didn’t care though. He scrambled to hold onto the man. He was so close to his orgasm. He wanted to draw it out but he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to form words. 

Firth’s hips stuttered, a harsh growl escaping his chest. He looked both incredible and terrifying, teeth bared and eyes glowing like moonlight. Ryan cried, the pleasure so sharp and intense. The merking was losing his pace, hips bucking hard. A clawed hand curled carefully around Ryan’s cock and Ryan lost his fight. 

The orgasm tore through him, temporarily robbing him of sight and sound. His body tensed, clenching down almost violently on the cock deep inside his ass. He was vaguely aware of Firth letting out a curse before he felt the rush of heat. The feel of the hot release inside him made his gasp and his insides sting a little. 

Hypersensitive, Ryan gave a tiny whimper as Firth eased out of him. Firth placed kisses to his damp cheeks before laying down beside him on Ryan’s ruined clothes. They lay, side by side in the thick grass, still catching their breathe and the sound of crickets and the rise and fall of waves all around them. Ryan shifted gingerly, shivering as his body cooled in the night air. Firth placed an arm around him and tucked in closer. 

“So, what happens now?” he asked softly after a long while. Firth turned his head to look down at him before reluctantly sitting up. Ryan looked at the smooth line of muscle and the cascade of silver hair. He felt both nervous and a little afraid of whatever Firth would say next. 

Was this it? Would the merman return to the ocean for good? He had no reason to stay now.

“It will take some time for what is left of my tribe to regroup but then we must leave for a while.” Firth murmured. 

“We have been isolated from the rest of the world for a long time. Though we have been able to have some knowledge of the outside through things like your television and newspapers, we have not had contact with other mer people since our capture inside the islands.” Ryan winced.

“Do you know where they are?” Ryan asked softly. Firth gazed out over the rolling black sea; his brow pinched.

“We have records of where the tribes used to be. Those in the south pole will most likely still be there as humans have not invaded far into the ice.” 

“A lot of the ice has melted and not returned in the last hundred or so years,” Ryan admitted softly. He saw the fall in the king’s shoulders and heard the deep sigh.

“I am aware. We aren’t sure what we will find,” he said softly. Ryan bit his lip. He wanted to ask the man to stay but knew that was selfish. 

“How long will you be gone?” Ryan asked meekly. The merking was quite awhile in answering. It was comfortable here, leaning against each other beside the ocean. Ryan wished it was a moment he could capture.

“I’m not sure. The world has changed violently around us. It could take some time before my people are ready to return to the islands that has been their prison, even if it is where we are safe.” Ryan guessed that made sense. The younger mer people might never want to come back now that they were free… 

“But you’ll come back?” Ryan whispered. Firth took Ryan’s face in his hands, cradling and angling him to meet pools of soft silver.

“I’ll come back.”

The kiss they shared was painfully tender. It expressed in silence the uncertainty the future held for the both and the rush of emotions they both carried, love, fear, worry and longing. It was raw and neither wanted to be the first to move way. 

Surprisingly, it was Ryan who took that first step. He pulled back and looked up the king.

“You should go. Go be the king your people need and when your ready, I’ll be here, on this island,” Ryan vowed. Firths shook his head in amazement. 

“I’ll hold you to that agreement,” Firth uttered. Ryan squeezed the man’s hand hard for a brief moment before, reluctantly, painfully, letting it go.

“You truly are the strangest human I have ever met,” Firth said, half in exasperation, half in pride. Ryan grinned.

“And don’t you forget it,” Ryan chided. 

Firth didn’t bother putting the old tatty trousers back on as he stood. He just turned and slowly strode back towards the water. He waded in until the waves washed over his hips. He looked back over his shoulder towards the beach. Ryan raised a hand to wave, trying to ignore the constricting feeling in his chest. Firth waved back slowly.

There was a flash of silver as a huge long tail arched into the air. Ryan watched, throat and chest tight as the man dove forward into the waves. There was a flick of a sharp fin, a glittering of scales and the merking was gone.

\--

FIN

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR’S NOTE: Epilogue to come shortly


	17. Epilogue

\--

Epilogue

\--

For the people who lived on Ryan’s little island, life had gone back to normal. The violent storms that had plagued them for the last month seemed to have curiously disappeared. Almost like magic, some said.

The last few weeks had not been particularly fun for Ryan. He had a lot to make up to his family. Tyler had been especially clingy and followed Ryan everywhere he went. His mother kept a hawk like watch on him and it was a full five day after Firth returned to the ocean before the woman would even allow Ryan out of the house without supervision. 

He had gone back to helping Trent’s father deliver the post to the island’s residents. He had even managed to get a second job on weekends with the ferryman, Mark. This would not have been achievable without Grandpa Jo intervention, helping to sooth Alice’s fear and reassure her that a busy teenager was a teenager kept out of trouble. Ryan actually really enjoyed being out on the ocean, feeling more at ease on the boat then he did on land. 

The school holidays were over now and Ryan had gone back to classes. It was probably a good thing because he was so busy with work, school and Tyler, that he barely got minute to himself to brood. 

At first, he had really enjoyed seeing everyone again and getting back into old habits. He laughed and joked around with Trent and found out what the others had been doing in their own school holidays. As the days stretched on though, Ryan found himself looking out the window of a night time more often than not, searching the coast line for… something. 

Some nights Ryan crept out of the house and went to stand on the beach. He didn't really expect to see or find anything but seeing the waves under moonlight always helped to sooth him. It seemed ridiculous to miss Firth. When he thought about it logically, they hadn't known each other long at all. He had probably dreamt of the mer king more than he had actually seen the man in the flesh. Somehow though, it didn't seem to matter. The experience they had shared and the history of their families had wound them together in some strange way and now that he knew of him, being without the king left Ryan feeling melancholy. 

He had wondered… or maybe hoped that he would dream of the mer man the same way he used to, that somehow, they could visit each other in their sleep. So far though, his dreams had been perfectly ordinary or sometimes worse. The nightmares of drowning in a vast ocean were rare but left him feeling more isolated then ever. 

His grandfather had resigned himself to a sympathetic 'all for the best' sort of stance. Ryan mother had been much slower to come to terms with the last few weeks. She was still nervous, still unhappy with Ryan going off on his own but he knew she was trying and he loved her for it. The truth of the situation was that Firth may not even come back for several years. Maybe longer. 

There was a new twist of discomfort as Ryan realised that this. This feeling of being shredded apart and weighed down on the inside was probably exactly how his birth mother, Dania had felt. How many times had she come to the docks, expecting to find her captain and seeing only old unfriendly faces? 

How many times had she woken from her nightmares and fled to the shore in the middle of the night, desperate for sight of his ship only to find a cold unsympathetic roaring ocean? He imagined her stayed there all night, her lips turning blue and her skin losing colour until her drunk father came and dragged her back inside.

Ryan had not tried to visit Dania since the curse had been broken. He had wondered briefly if it's end would somehow break the madness in her but just walking past the house and hearing the crazed screaming and Debra's pleas made him sure it hadn't. No, what had caused Dania's madness had occurred a long time ago. It broken something away and crawled inside the gap to rot and fester until the woman was an evil shell of her former self. He pitied her but he pitied Debra more. Surely the woman had to have known about everything that had occurred and to still have to carry on, keeping up the appearance of a happy school teacher.

His stomach twisted up cold and sick at the many time he remembered seeing the odd bump or bruise on her. She had always laughed and said how clumsy she was. How many of those bruises had been from knocking against a misaligned coffee table and how many were from her sister's fists? Ryan shivered, pulling his jacket a little closer around his throat to protect him from the night breeze coming off the ocean. He had been standing here for awhile and it was getting late. He decided to head home for the night.

\--

"Debra has put her house up for sale." Grandpa Jo said as he handed out plates of scrambled eggs.

"Really? How come?" Alice asked as she took her seat beside Ryan. 

"Apparently Dania has been getting quite ill lately and Debra is worried it's becoming too much for her. They are moving to the mainland where she can get a carer to help her look after the poor woman." Jo said, not meeting Ryan's gaze. Alice sighed.

"Probably just as well. There’s plenty of school across the way that would take Debra in a heartbeat." 

“She’s leaving?” Tyler piped up; the fork clutched tight in a small hand.

“Yes dear. I imagine Miss Penworth will be your new teacher now,” Alice said thoughtfully. Tyler pulled a face.

“She’s mean, and she doesn’t like the colour red,” he grumbled. Ryan snorted into his plate of eggs. Alice shot her older son a disapproving look before looking back at Tyler.

“She is a little stricter but its important to do what the teacher says,” Alice said knowledgably. 

“I’m sure you always did what you were told,” Ryan sniggered. His grandfather gave a loud laugh.

“By the sea gods, no! You know, this one time she put paint in the-”

“Yes, thank you dad!” Alice interrupted, her cheeks turning pink.

“And then she cut that girls hair, I thought the mother would chase us off the island!”

“Thank you, dad!” Alice squawked. The boys all laughed. 

\--

Ryan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, feeling drained. 

“Can you imagine, we finish this year and that’s it. Done. No more school!” Trent groaned, rolling his shoulders.

“You aren’t interested in going to university then?” Catlin cooed, knowing full well that he wasn’t. Trent pulled a face as though she had said a filthy swear word.

“No thanks. Why would a want to torture myself like that?” Trent spluttered. Catlin snorted.

“Honestly Trent, you are so lazy. I bet you wouldn’t even come to school if there was literally anywhere else to go on this island,” she teased. Trent gave a loud melodramatic sigh.

“Sad, but true,” he agreed. Ryan laughed.

“What about you, Ryan? Are you going to university?” Catlin asked as they walked home. The afternoon was actually surprisingly pleasant. The weather had been warm all day and all three of them carried their school jumpers over their arms. Ryan gave a shrug.

“No, I hadn’t planned on it,” he said carefully. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Catlin’s eyebrows go up.

“Really? Where are you planning on going once you finish school?” Her question was one he had been asked a few times in the last few days. It was just starting to sink in for the older students that this semester would be their last. There was above of overall excitement which was quickly squashed under a mound of homework. It was almost like the teachers were trying to squash all that excitement out of them. 

“No-where,” Ryan admitted. Catlin’s jaw dropped a little and Trent rolled his eyes.

“You forget, I actually like it here, on the island. I don’t feel trapped here the same way you do,” he explained gently. Catlin frowned, clearly unconvinced. 

“Surely your mother doesn’t expect you to stay here forever…”

“She doesn’t and I don’t choose to just because of my family, though it’s true I don’t want to leave them. Especially Tyler. He’s only five,” Ryan sighed. Fat fluffy clouds drifted over ahead, giving them some temporarily relief from the hot sun. Catlin hummed.

“He’s a weird one,” Tyler said in agreement to her tone. Ryan flipped him off. His mother would be working until late and grandpa Jo had gone to the primary school with Tyler and offered to stay. With Debra gone, the teachers were eager for an extra pair of hands. It meant that Ryan would have a few blissful hours of peace a quiet to finished his school work before he had to cook dinner. 

As they rounded the corner, Trent and Catlin went one way and Ryan went the other, the three shouting loud good byes as they parted company. Ryan was walked fast, keen to get into the relative cool of his house when a figure standing in the middle of the road caught his attention. 

He was dressed so oddly; it would have been impossible not to notice him. Aside from shiny silver hair that had been neatly braided and fell nearly to the man’s waist, he was wearing a pair of crisply pressed dress slacks, a button-down navy shirt and what looked like, mis matched shoes. It was the first time he had seen the man by daylight and it took his sun addled brain a few moments to process what he was taking in with his eyes. Then he dropped his school bag and jumper and ran.

Firth turned at the sound and a wide smile spread across his pale features. He bent, bracing slightly as the teen hurled himself into his chest. The thud was hard and probably would have knocked the wind out of a normal person. Firth only returned the hug with rib cracking enthusiasm. Ryan buried his face the in the crook of the king’s neck, breathing in his scent. When they pulled apart and Ryan spoke, his voice had an embarrassing tremor to it. 

“And to think, it’s only been a month.” Firth bent his head and crushed their lips together. The kiss was hard and all consuming, forcing into it all the emotion both men had felt in their time apart. When they drew apart, eyes bright and breathless, Ryan grabbed hold of the king’s hand and started to tug.

“Come on, there’s no one at home right now. We’ll have the place to ourselves.” He was so overwhelmingly giddy; he nearly forgot his school bag until Firth stooped to pick it and dusty jumper off the ground first. 

Ryan could barely get the key in the front door; his hand was shaking with excitement and nervousness. He spilled into the front room, dragged Firth through the threshold and slammed the door behind him. Firth flung the back pack down to brace himself as the teen flung himself onto him again. They stood together, just breathing and embracing.

“Sorry, I guess I missed your grumpy ass a bit,” Ryan laughed. Firth smirked.

“My grumpy ass?” Firth asked, a sharp tooth revealed in the hallway light. 

“Tail? Grumpy tail?” Ryan asked. Firth laughed, the sound rich and mesmerising. 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Ryan asked, his voice becoming breathy. Firth raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening.

“No. I didn’t come here to eat or drink,” the merking snorted.

“Fan-fucking tastic,” Ryan groaned happily. He grabbed Firth’s arm and wrenched his towards his bedroom.

“Are you not going to ask me where I have been?” the king asked in amusement.

“Yep. After,” Ryan barked. They tumbled into the bedroom. Ryan laughing as Firth struggled to get his ridiculous mis matched shoes off his feet. Ryan shoved him. Fifth tumbled back onto the bed, the mer king letting out a huff as the air left his lungs. He watched as his young lover straddled his lap, pulling the shirt over his head as he went. Fifth reached for him, drawing his face in for another kiss, needing to taste him. Ryan whimpered, his clothed erection rubbing against Firth abdomen.

“Please tell me you can reach the bedside table. Top draw, white tube,” Ryan pleaded. Thankfully, the mer king could reach the draw and found the tube of lubricant. As he fussed with extracting it, Ryan shimmied out of his trousers and fumbled with the button of Firth’s slacks. 

“Lift your hips,” Ryan panted. Firth grunted, obeying. It was a fast, ridiculous flurry of movement and struggling as they wrestled with material and position. It was a desperate need to touch, to be close. Ryan did manage to keep his mounted position in Firth’s lap.

Firth bit at the cap of the tube of slick. Ryan hurt the wet squirt of gel and shivered as icy cold slickness ran along his crack as long fingers found his ass. Ryan groaned, shivering as the first finger slipped into his ass. The stretch was a fast and made him wince. Firth pressed soft kissing to his cheeks and jaw, trying to slow down but Ryan shook his head and ground down hard. 

Those long fingers plunged in two at a time, causing a moan to rattle from Ryan’s throat. He met Firth in a hard kiss, tasting each other in a rushing of sharp teeth. Ryan bucked, desperate for something bigger than the man’s fingers. 

“Please hurry up,” he whined. The king breathed a laugh into his neck. 

“Steady love. I don’t want to hurt you,” the king murmured. Ryan stared at him, his breathe hitching.

“Love?” Ryan rasped. Firth smiled and withdrew his fingers, causing a mewl.

“Yes, love,” Firth breathed as he steadied the teen, lining up his cock. They paused for a heartbeat. Ryan’s thigh’s trembled as he slowly eased down on the man’s length. Firth would not let him drop down to fast, powerful hands holding his weight easily. Ryan groaned, enjoying the hard stretch he had missed so much since their first coupling. 

The slight pain of the stretch ghosted over to the wonderful to-full feeling as he settled fully in the man’s lap. Ryan threw his head back, unwittingly exposing his throat to the man’s teeth and tongue. Fifth dove forwards, needing to mark him. He bit hard as he thrust up, forcing a loud mewl from Ryan.

They tried to start slow, Ryan’s hips gently rolling as Firth flexed under him. It felt incredible and both men were soon panting, sweat gleaming on their skin. Firth’s grip tightened, holding him in place as he thrust upwards. Long eyelashes fluttered down as Ryan writhed, pleasure singing hot and sharp inside. 

He was getting dangerously close already, hips rocking. Ryan red cock slapped against his belly with every hard bounce, his body thrumming with pleasure. He would probably end up regretting not taking it slower but at the movement, he craved the roughness and depth of Firth’s cock. He rose up almost fully before dropping himself down, the cock hitting his prostate and making him see stars. Precum oozed from the tip of his cock. Teetering on the edge, he clenched down hard, making Firth hiss in satisfaction. 

And large hand curled around his aching dick and Ryan flew almost violently over the edge into climax. He gave a shout, body trembled, ass clutching the cock deep inside him. His cum splattered across their bellies and spilled over Firth’s fingers. Fifth purred, slowing. Ryan shook his head.

“D..don’t stop.” The plea was soft, his hands gripping at Firth’s shoulders. He was so hyper sensitive but he could feel the man throbbing deep inside him. The king plunged up as Ryan rocked his hips. He nearly sobbed as the cock rutted into him. Firth’s hands clenched down hard. Ryan watched in wonder as his lovers back arched. He felt the cock throb inside his ass as man spilled inside him. He shivered.

The two gasped, breathing the same air as they came down from their high. Ryan rested his forehead against Firth’s shoulder, his arms wrapped loosely around his neck.

“Okay, I feel better now,” Ryan groaned. Firth chuckled, his body shifting. Ryan shuddered and slowly eased himself off the man’s lap, wincing at the slight pain and slick feeling. 

“Glad I could be of assistance,” Firth said, lips twitching. Ryan sighed, reaching for the tissues and knowing that they probably wouldn’t be enough but at least it would stop the… leakage. Ryan stared up at the king, biting his lip.

“Go on, ask your questions,” Firth sighed. 

“Did you find anyone? Where did you go? Are you leaving again?” Ryan blurted out. The mer man’s smile faltered a little.

“Yes, and no. We reconnected with one of our sister tribes but of the seven we set out to find, we only met with two. And yes… I will be leaving again.” As he said this, Ryan’s body visibly shrank down on itself before he hitched a smile back on that was a little too wide.

“Well, at least it’s a start,” Ryan said in a falsely cheerful voice. Firth cupped his cheek.

“I will have to leave again but my tribe calls these islands home. We will remain here between our missions.” Firth promised.

“So… it won’t be so long between visits? I’m not going to get old and grey whilst your gone?” Ryan said, only half joking. Firth smiled.

“No love. You won’t get old and grey without me.” They shared another kiss, this one lacking the hunger and sharing a deep need for closeness. 

"So why didn't it work when my father gave himself up? His sacrifice was the same as mine," Ryan asked, settling back more comfortably in the king’s lap. Firth seemed to consider this for a while.

"I've been thinking a lot about that and I'm not sure it was. He gave himself up after centuries of running and only after you were born. He also tried to hide you and his wife from my tribe. He may have sacrificed himself but his intentions were selfish,” Firth said thoughtfully. Ryan hummed before lapsing into silence, content to trace the man’s skin as Firth’s fingers slid gently through his hair. 

“How did you find me?” Ryan mused.

“When you came of age, your blood called out. When you swam in the ocean it only became more apparent,” Firth said cryptically. 

“I almost couldn’t believe it was you, that you were alive,” he added softly. Ryan grinned.

“It was you then, that pulled me to shallow water during the storm? I should have drowned,” he said, remembering back to what was nearly two months ago.

“Yes. I nearly let you. I felt the pull almost as soon as you hit the water. When you cut yourself and I smelt the blood, I couldn’t believe who you were.” The man looked slightly dazed, lost in memories. Ryan traced his jawline with his fingertips, wanting to imprint the sight of the king deep in his memory.

“You told me I would have to become yours,” Ryan mused. Firth’s silver eyes darkened.

“You are mine,” he purred, gripping Ryan’s hips tightly. Ryan smirked. 

“I suppose I am,” he agreed. He pressed his lips against his lover’s begging for entry. A lazy groan worked up the man’s chest. Ryan shifted, pulling back with one last nip to the man’s bottom lip. He met those silver eyes with own, feeling the broadness of his own smile. 

“And there isn’t anywhere else I want to be.”

\--

FIN

\--

AUTHOR’S NOTE: It seems mildly insane to me just how long this book has been in production. I started the original plot right back in 2013. It went through several rewrites before lying dormant for almost five years before I carried on writing it. Of all my stories, it is the first one I have completed but hopefully not the last.

As of right now, I am unsure if there will be a sequel. I certainly hadn’t planned on writing a sequel when I started but since completing this book, several ideas have popped into my head about where these characters could go next. A massive thank you to all my patreons who have supported me. You guys are wonderful.


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